


Dragon in the Ruins

by Nehasy



Series: Dragon in the Ashes [2]
Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Action/Adventure, Anal Sex, Atlantis, Beastkin, Character Death, Child Soldiers, Confinement, Dragons, Dubious Consent, First Kiss, Forced Drug Use, Frenemies with Benefits, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loyalty, M/M, Mental Conditioning, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Dilandau/Gaddes relationship, Post-Series, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Slow Burn, Teamwork, The Madoushi are sick and evil, Torture, Wartime Violence, enemies to frenemies, fate manipulation, inhumane experiments, science and magic gone wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:50:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 28
Words: 486,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11859408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehasy/pseuds/Nehasy
Summary: Trapped behind enemy lines, Dilandau and Van need to learn how to work together to escape not only the horrific Madoushi experiments but their own twisted destiny.  If they don't, more than their lives are on the line as the fate of Gaea is bound to them.  Those left behind race to rescue the lost duo, but can they trust each other in the wake of past betrayals or are they doomed to fail before they even begin?  The first shots in the upcoming war have been fired and they won't be the last as Fate once again reaches out with black feathered wings to engulf everything in their shadows.





	1. A Dark Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> YAY Book 2!!  
> Things pick up right where we left off in Ashes and things are looking pretty dark indeed. This fic will be significantly darker than the previous one due to the subject matter, especially in the beginning but fear not! There will still be plenty of snark, sass, sex, action and general craziness that you've come to expect from my work. Comments and criticism (constructive please) are always welcome and encouraged. They help give me ideas to work into the framework of the story. 
> 
> As always, I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or the characters. This is a project of love and I'm not making a penny off of this.
> 
> Now, sit back and enjoy the madness! ^_^

_“Van? Van can you hear me?”_ Hitomi’s voice roused him, pulling his mind into awareness. It sounded so distant and afraid, her words swallowed up by a vast emptiness. Something was wrong... he knew it before his mind had cleared. Instinct screamed at him to open his eyes and prepare for battle but that was easier said than done.

Old memories assaulted him, called forth by the last time he’d heard his love calling to him in that frightened voice and he half expected to feel either the hot kiss of flames or the sharp biting cold of steel pierce his flesh. Instead, as he struggled to open his eyes, he found only darkness. This was more than a mere absence of light surrounding him and he could feel the fine hairs on his arms standing on end as he struggled to find something... anything to give him a sense of space or weight. It was a nothingness he’d found himself in. There was no up, no down... no floor. To the best of his knowledge, he was simply floating in a void, one which was pressing against him with increasing force, threatening to crush him until he ceased to exist as well.

_“Van, I’m so sorry! I can’t find you!”_

“Hitomi?” It hurt to speak he could picture that nothingness filling his lungs as he drew in breath to form the words. A terrible coldness began to fill him, sliding through his veins, stealing the heat of his life and he could feel his fear begin to grow with every beat of his heart.

The void swallowed up the sound of his voice the instant it passed his lips, crushing it with brutal mercilessness and leaving him with only the hammering of his heart against his ribs as the only sound. Undaunted, refusing to surrender, he drew in another deep breath, feeling the chill inside him grow as he desperately called her name once again. “Hitomi!”

A light glimmered in the distance, a shining purplish red glow which in this moment was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. It was the same shade as fine wine held up to the sun... of active energist trapped in the breast of a dragon... of Dilandau’s eyes when he was angry. His eyes drank it in as he stared at it, watching as it flickered for a moment like a candle in the wind, struggling to maintain its existence against the surrounding oppressiveness. If he squinted, he could almost see the light bobbing back and forth like a pendulum, beckoning him... leading him somewhere.

 _“Van? Please talk to me! I can’t find you!”_ It was the pendant he wore around his neck. After a year of watching Hitomi holding it, letting it’s light guide her, he’d know that swaying motion anywhere! She was coming for him! She’d show him the way out of this darkness!

“HITOMI!” He could almost see her hand reaching out for him, so slender and pale but shining with a light of it’s own as it strove to drive the darkness back. All he had to do was take it and he’d be freed, pulled back into the world of life and light just as he’d been during the war after that one terrible slaughter in Freid.

 _“VAN! Take my hand! Please!”_ He stretched himself out towards the light and the almost hand with his own, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that this time he’d be able to touch her, this time he’d feel her warmth.

Before they could touch, the darkness shifted, twisting violently around them and in the light of the pendant, he saw a huge wing open wide between them. Feathers saturated with the darkness fluttered around them and a strange wind pushed against him, driving them apart.

 _“VAN!!!”_ Hitomi’s voice spiralled away into the nothingness and the faint flickering light of the pendant guttered out.

“Not yet young one.” A cold voice whispered softly in his ear. “The wheel of destiny has not ceased to spin for you.” A feather brushed against his cheek and he felt a cold wetness in it’s wake. Blood. He didn’t need to see it to know, after a year of war, he’d know that stickiness anywhere. His hand reached down to his hip for his sword but found nothing, not his weapon, not his belt... not his flesh. There was no body for him to touch, no shape to contain his consciousness. What in the name of all the gods of Gaea was going on!?

“Be strong young one, be brave upon the wheel or more will be lost than you know.” The darkness grew thicker, darker and he opened his mouth to scream as the pressure began to shatter his bones into powder. No sound escaped his lips, but emptiness poured inside him, tearing him apart until he was nothing but pain and terror.

 

 

 

“I swear that if that psycho freak hurts one hair on Lord Van’s head, I’ll claw his eyes out.” Merle hissed softly under her breath as she leaned against the window of the Crusade, watching the sprawling city of Palas come into view beneath them. Flanked by a shining azure ocean and emerald green forested mountains, it was a breathtaking sight to behold, but one she cared little for. Dimly, she was aware of a hint of sadness at the thought that every time she came to this shining jewel of a city, she was always too worried to appreciate the view.

Ever since she’d woken up alone and cold in Allen’s bed, the fading scent of Van clinging faintly to the sheets, she’d been living just on the edge of panic. Dimly she was remembered those hellish three days of being dragged behind horses through the fanelian jungle. Dehydrated, starving and hurting more than she’d ever thought possible, she’d struggled to keep going, determined not to leave her beloved Van alone in this nightmare. It had torn her apart knowing that she had been useless, just a dead weight around her dear friends neck. She’d known from the beginning that she was the chain which bound Van to captivity and if she’d died, he’d have found a way to free himself. It had torn at her, this feeling of cowardice and helplessness.

Every day she’d struggled to keep moving, determined not to give those vile men reasons to beat her or worse, but every night, she’d heard this little niggling voice deep inside whispering to her that if she’d truly cared about Van, she’d have given up. Without her, he’d have been free. Somehow, someway, he’d have escaped.

A faint growl reverberated through her throat as she angrily brushed aside the dark thoughts, remembering instead the way he’d carried her through the jungle, how he’d stroked her fur and wrapped blankets around her, whispering words of encouragement. He loved her. Maybe it wasn’t the romantic love she’d always dreamed of, but it was still a love and she couldn’t abandon him. Not now, now ever.

“Can’t this hunk of junk go any faster?” She glanced over her shoulder at Kio who was manning the wheel, pulling levers and pushing buttons with a concentrated focus, doing his best to ignore her grousing. He’d been doing rather well at it, having effectively tuned her out hours ago.

Honestly, she knew that her complaining wasn’t helping matters with the already tense crew but she found that she really didn’t care. That hot barb of betrayal still festered in her guts at the knowledge that they’d harboured the monster who’d tried to murder her beloved Van over and over again. She could still smell the pale freak in the halls of the ship, the stink of blood, madness and something... wrong. It made her fur stand on end and frayed her already worn nerves.

“I assure you that Kio is flying us as quickly as possible.” Allen murmured from beside her, his voice calm and collected, his face stoic. He appeared to be as unruffled as always, though Merle had to bite back a sharp toothed sneer at the tall knight. Who did he think he was fooling? She could smell the dread rolling off of him in waves, the desperation and fear surrounded him like a cloud.

He was scared that the little monster was dead or captured. There was no need for him to say it, she could see it in his eyes and in the way the crew all either tiptoed around him or raced through their duties, just as desperate as he was to find their lost comrades.

Traitors, all of them. Didn’t they remember the flames? The screams of their friends? The laughter that had echoed across the field of slaughter. Merle hadn’t. She would never forget Fanelia, Castillo, Palas, Freid... so many places, so many lives torn apart.

Ort had said that Dilandau had changed, that he was on their side now, as if that made everything alright. It didn’t! Merle was never going to forget that chilling laughter snaking it’s way across the clearing, seeing that severed head bouncing on the ground and those mad red eyes approaching. That kidnapping bastard had held a sword at her throat and he’d still approached, treating her life like a joke, enjoying himself in the midst of murder! He might be on their side, but he was still a monster and Merle didn’t trust him at all.

“I still don’t understand why we’re coming here.” She grumbled up at him, her tail flicking back and forth sharply as the buildings grew more distinct in the predawn light. A light mist had sliding through the streets along the dock wards, already retreating before the power of the sun and the tips of Jeture’s great temple were already gilded with golden light.

“They vanished in a pillar of light.” Allen replied calmly, as he had the past five times they’d had this discussion over the last two days. “The last time Dilandau called one up, he appeared in Palas in the woods by our estate.”

“Yeah, well maybe Van called it.” She pressed stubbornly. “He’d have gone back to Fanelia to get Escaflowne, or the Mystic Moon to find Hitomi. We should be heading back to Fanelia! They don’t even know what happened to Lord Van.”

She didn’t need to look up to know that Allen was giving her an utterly patronizing smile and was likely moments away from patting her on the head as if she was some scared little kitten. If the idiot did that, he was going to lose a hand dammit!

“Van has only managed such a feat while holding a dragenergist.” The golden knight explained once again, as if Merle didn’t already know that!

“Well maybe he hadn’t been motivated enough to try!” Merle snapped heatedly her fur standing on end now as she thought about how panicked the crew had been when Katz had come rushing back to the ship to report what had happened. He’d seen the pillar of light... along with half the village and crew, but it was the tale of the battle that had chilled her to the bone.

She’d been barely conscious, wondering where her friend was when she’d heard the raised voices out in the corridor. Ears twitching, she’d listened to ever horrible word, hissing softly at the words “Enemy guymelef, dozens dead and the worst of all...Van missing.”

Needless to say it hadn’t taken much more than that to force her from her bed in order to demand more information, and she hadn’ let up since.

“The monster probably took them to Zaibach.” She pressed angrily. “They’re probably pulling him apart as we speak while Dilandau laughs!”

“That’s enough Merle.” There was a clear warning chill in Allen’s tone of voice but Merle simply glared up at him, challenging.

“No it’s not enough.” She countered in what was by now a rather repetitive argument between the two of them. “You didn’t tell us. You didn’t warn anyone. You just hid him away and hoped for the best. Well now the worst has happened and you still want him back! He almost killed you during the war! Don’t you remember that? He put those scars on your guts and nearly tore your pretty guymelef apart, but you still treat him like he’s your daft little sister!”

“He also saved your lives and fought for your freedom.” Allen countered icily, his patience clearly at an end. “How fervently you seek to neglect that. I haven’t forgotten his crimes, but I also understand that he had very little choice in the matter. It was war Merle. Many people did questionable things, ourselves included.”

“Speak for yourself blondie. I don’t regret any of my actions.” That earned her a rather reluctant hint of a smile from the knight and he sighed softly. A pale slender hand reached out and gently ruffled her hair, tempting her to amputate the offending limb but enough of her missed the idea of a companionable touch that she decided in the end to accept it... for the moment. Gods of Gaea, she missed Van.

“Beginning our final descent” Kio announced confidently from the wheel, pulling several levers, dropping altitude quickly as their levistones were warmed. The details of the harbour became more refined as the distance closed and Merle could now see the individual people bustling about, busy with their little lives and having no idea that another war was looming ahead.

“Well, nothing’s on fire. That’s a good sign, right?” Reeden blurted out from the far side of the bridge where he was manning some controls for Kio. The pilot casually reached over and swatted the lanky crewman soundly across the back of the head for the tactless remark, earning himself a dark look.

“The kid ain’t stupid enough to set fire to Palas a second time.” Kio grumbled. “Specially since we’ve got his murder machine sitting in our hold. He’s smart enough to lay low until we find him.”

“I don’t think the kid has the first clue how to lay low. He’s probably driving Gaddes around the bend as we speak, same with Van. Man, I don’t envy the sergeant one bit. Poor guy looked ready to beat his head against the hull after their little walk through the woods the other day. I can’t imagine what this is going to be like for him.” The two crewmen bantered back and forth lightly about the plight of their shipmate trapped with two hostile teenagers. Merle had a feeling that it was purely for the benefit of herself and Allen, trying to alleviate some of the tension. While she appreciated their efforts, it only served to annoy her.

How could they joke when her beloved Van might be hurt or captured? Why did everything have to be a joke with them? Huffing loudly, she glared out the window, her eyes scanning the crowds intently as she hoped to see that familiar red shirt and dark messy head of hair wandering through the city.

“... Do you really think that they’ll be at your house?” She finally asked Allen as she chewed on her lower lip, her fingers nervously toying with her nail file necklace. “I mean... Van would have found a way to contact us right? Or leave a message?”

The hand on her head ruffled her hair slightly making her tail lash once more but she endured the annoyance, wanting an answer more than she wanted to be treated like an adult... an adult with claws.

“Yes, I believe they’ll be there” He sounded confident enough that she found herself believing his words. “As for them getting along... before they left they were at least making an attempt at it. I would hope that having their lives on the line might help encourage them to get their priorities straightened out. If not, Gaddes will likely be more than happy to do so for them.” Allen smiled slightly, glancing down at the harbour as he scanned the leviship landing field for anyone just standing around idly. “Besides, Gaddes knows that the manor is safe for them and Alberto, my manservant would keep them hidden.” Leaning forward, he pointed out a figure standing attentively by the empty pad they were heading towards, a hand raised and waving. “You see him? He’s likely a messenger waiting for us to pass on that very message. Have faith Merle. They’re all incredibly resourceful individuals. They’ll be fine.”

He sounded so blissfully confident that Merle desperately wanted to snap some cold hard truths at the knight, but she held her tongue. Humans liked to be ignorant of certain unpleasant facts. This was something she’d learned the hard way over and over again. Where the beastkin were unfailingly pragmatic, humans loved their illusions and comforting lies so much that they rarely reacted well when confronted with reality.

This was a perfect example because she knew damn well that Gaddes’ priorities were definitely not keeping the little monster out of trouble despite what the rest of the crew believed. It had been impossible to miss the musky smell of sex emanating from his cabin. A lot of sex in a short amount of time had occurred in that little room and there was no doubt as to who the participants had been. How the crew had missed this boggled her mind, but they likely all only heard and saw what they wanted to, and the knowledge that one of their own had been seduced by an insane child wouldn’t be greeted as welcome news.

The sergeants loyalty was compromised and that put Van in greater danger than anyone realized. She needed to be there at his side to protect him! No... growling softly at herself, she gave her head a little shake. Now who was lying to themselves? She hadn’t done anything to protect her precious friend lately. All she’d done since the war was follow him around and try to make him forget about how much he missed Hitomi. _Face it Merle, you’re little more than a pet_. She grumbled to herself, wishing that things had turned out differently.

Why had Hitomi left them? Van loved her! Hadn’t she realized what a precious thing that was? She could have had the world at her feet after the war. So many of Gaea’s leaders had grown to respect her Visions and she’d been pivotal in the war time and time again. Merle would have given anything to have had even a fraction of that admiration. After all, she’d been there every step of the way too! She’d witnessed the battles, the burning of Palas and the battles at Freid. She’d helped bind Van’s wounds, choked on the stench of the dead and even put herself in harms way to protect her king... but in the end, she was still good old Merle, the cute little cat and little else.

Well she was going to fix that starting now! No more mindless following and helpless worrying. She was going to do things! Great things! She was going to stop being a damn pet and become Lord Van’s friend, his best friend! She’d protect him when no one else could... of course, that was sort of easier said than done.

Her tail and ears drooped slightly as she pondered the enormity of her task. Van wouldn’t want her following him into danger. She was still just a kitten after all, at least in the minds of those around her. Allen certainly wasn’t going to let her do anything proactive. Sure, he didn’t expect her to act like some vapid court lady, but there was no doubt that he’d haul her back the instant she stepped one fuzzy foot out of line. Dammit. She was going to have to be clever with this.

“Strap yourself in Merle.” The blonde in question glanced over at her. “We’re still likely a little off balance from that hard landing.” Though there hadn’t been any hint of blame in the knight’s voice, Kio still flinched slightly in guilt.

“I’ll make sure she gets fixed up good as new Boss.” he stated quickly, not taking his eyes off of his instruments. “And I’m making sure the kid damn well learns how to land properly. Honestly, this is a leviship, not a damn guymelef. I bet he tried to dive into the landing or something stupid like that.”

Though she bristled at the note of fondness in the pilot’s voice, she held her tongue and fastened herself in to the nearest set of seat restraints and did her best to stay relaxed as the ship touched down less than a minute later with perhaps a tad more force than usual.

“Alright, we’re down!” Kio yelled into the ships speakers, though honestly, with the sheer volume he was capable of, the device was hardly necessary. “All hands prepare to look presentable and disembark! Riom, don’t forget you’ve got ship duty today.” There was an answering curse from down the hallway and Merle couldn’t quite restrain a slight snicker at the crewman’s misfortunes.

In a flash, she had her own harness undone and was racing out the door before Allen had even stood up. Slowpoke! She was going to find Van and hug the life out of him, then kick his ass for heading out with that psycho monster! Hadn’t the war taught him anything? Honestly, sometimes she was positive that Van was helpless without her.

Her forward momentum was slowed somewhat by the crowd at the lift. It seemed that the whole crew was just as eager as she was to disembark, and were just as pushy about it. Angrily, she kicked Ort in the calf and growled up at him.

“Move it baldy! I need to get to Lord Van!” The crewman favoured her with a fond if somewhat patronizing grin and patted her on her head.

“And I need to get to the Saucy Wench! There’s a pretty little redhead just begging for me.”

“Didn’t she threaten to cut your pecker off if you came near her again?” Reeden snickered over his shoulder, earning himself a punch in the kidney.

“She meant it in a loving way!”

“She was holding a knife as she said it.” The lanky crewman pointed out, still looking more amused than worried over the dark look his friend was shooting his way. “Let’s go to the Dirty Bodice instead. Gracie likes you... Jeture knows why. She might give us a discount.”

“You two are disgusting.” Merle grumbled, giving Ort another kick in the shin. “Now get out of my way. I’m in a hurry.”

“Kitten, clearly you have no idea what it’s like to be a man, stuck in a ship with other men for long periods of time. Even Katz is starting to look good.” Marcus grumbled good naturedly from further up the line.

“If you’re so hard up for action, I’m surprised you didn’t make a move on the kid. He seemed up for it.” Another voice spoke up. It wasn’t one Merle was familiar enough with to place easily, though she still flashed a glare in that direction. Several of the men around her laughed uproariously at that, especially when Marcus went white as a sheet over the suggestion.

“Are you kidding me? The Boss would skin me alive and hang my ass like a bloody pennant from the port side flagpole!”

“You guys are disgusting.” She grumbled, reaching the conclusion that none of the men were going to hustle and get out of her way.

“Agreed.” A cool voice dripping with disapproval spoke up behind her, silencing the rather lecherous laughter in moments. “That is no way to speak around a lady and certainly no way to refer to my brother. I trust you all will strive to behave with the proper amount of decorum in his presence.” Allen walked calmly up to the group of men who parted obediently for him, more than a few ducking their heads in apology for their crass behaviour.

Quick to take advantage of the space being created in the knight’s wake, Merle slipped in behind him and followed at his heels, smirking all the way.

“I wish for you all to remain close to the ship and sober for the time being.” Allen continued as he stepped onto the now empty lift, Merle scooted in behind him, her glare challenging anyone to try to move her. “We have no idea what sort of situation we’re walking into. They could very well be at my home and being unobtrusive...” There was a rather evident pregnant pause as everyone exchanged a weighted look with each other. Everyone knew that neither Van nor Dilandau had any clue how to be anything but up front and in your face... Gaddes really wasn’t much better.

“Ten gidaru say’s that the kid’s in the palace dungeon, chained and muzzled.” Pyle murmured softly under his breath.

“Twenty says that Van is in the cell next to him.” Ort replied just as quietly. Merle had just enough time to shoot them a glare of death before the lift began to descend.

“They’ll be alright.” Allen murmured to her, his eyes scanning the crowd once again, seeking out that lone waving figure he’d noticed during their descent. At his side, Merle huffed softly, her tail still lashing back and forth with a mind if it’s own.

“Yeah... care to share some of that optimism?” She didn’t need to look up to know that he was smiling down at her, though rather than patting her on the head like a child, he gently lay a hand on her shoulder and gave a tender squeeze.

“Things will work out Merle.” He assured her, exuding that quiet confidence once more. “We wished of it didn’t we?”

“Wishes don’t always come true.” The reply held the bitterness of years behind it. The hand on her shoulder gave another slight squeeze before releasing her.

“No, they don’t, and when they do, it’s not always how you expect. But we continue on and grow stronger for it.” She didn’t bother replying to his empty optimism, preferring instead to give a disgruntled “Humph” to express her opinion on the matter. At least the hand finally left her shoulder as the knight turned to look at an approaching figure. It was the one he’d spied from the air, a court messenger by the looks of it, young bright eyed and eager. Jeture, had he ever been that innocent? No, likely not.

The knight smiled warmly at the approaching youth, noting that he couldn’t be any older than Van, but lacked the worldly weight which always haunted the young king’s eyes. This boy had never truly seen war or the soul shattering devastation it brought. Inwardly, he vowed to do his best to ensure that he never had the chance to experience such things. It was an empty promise, war was always looming in one form or another, but it gave him something to think about other than the limitless fates which had befallen his hot headed little brother.

“Sir Allen!” the boy gasped breathlessly the instant the lift touched down. His light brown haired head bobbed respectfully as he stared at the knight with obvious worship. “My name is Page Emanual Descortas and I come bearing a message from Heir Dryden Fassa.” His voice cracked halfway through the introduction, making Allen shave a year or two off of his initial age.

Dammit, Dryden was still a step ahead of him. He had to fight to keep from gritting his teeth or clenching his fists. He knew... somehow, that damned potato sack wearing fool had figured out about Dilandau. Now he was going to hear a politely worded ultimatum, maybe a little blackmail...

“He asks me to inform you not to worry, that your brother Lord Schezar has arrived safely at the palace and is awaiting your arrival with King Fanel and your crewman. They would appreciate your attendance at your earliest convenience.”

... Alright... that hadn’t been at all what he’d expected to hear. Lord Schezar? How in Jeture’s name had Dilandau not only avoided execution but secured himself a Lordship?

“Oh there’s got to be a good story behind this.” Merle snickered, instantly relieved by the message. Van was alright! He was in the palace! She’d be with him in less than an hour! Suddenly the sky seemed brighter and the air fresher.

“My brother and King Fanel are both in good health after their journey?” The knight asked with false casualness, noting that two horses were tied up on the perimeter fence, ready to take him and the messenger back to the palace as befitting their ranks as noblemen.

The boy nodded eagerly, happy to share court gossip with an amicable knight.

“Oh yes Sir Allen. Lord Schezar had already fought in a duel against Lord Gantress and won brilliantly.” Rather than be impressed, Allen instead noted the feel of a rather powerful headache coming on. A duel... with a nobleman... lovely. That was one of the last things he needed to hear.

“What do the Schezars now owe house Gantress in compensation for the loss of their heir?” He found himself asking, already dreading the answer. Jeture, the boy would have made mincemeat out of his opponent. The Gantress heir was a foolish blowhard with a far too overblown sense of his own self worth. Dilandau wouldn’t have hesitated to cut him down... rather graphically in front of the court for no other reason than shock value.

“Nothing Sir Allen, Lord Schezar fought only to the disarming. It was rather noble of him considering Lord Gantress sought his death.”

“Proving there’s only one sane person in this country...” Merle murmured softly to herself and was utterly ignored by the two nobles.

“Dilandau spared someone’s life?” Allen blurted out, shocked into momentarily forgetting his manners. The messenger nodded his head and grinned widely, pleased to be the first one to share this information.

“Yes sir! And he fought using the Royal Sword of Fanelia!” Now it was Merle’s turn to feel faint. Sweet gods above, the freak had robbed Van!

“And... was Van aware of this?” The knight asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Yes sir.” Well that was a relief, though honestly, he felt as if he’d just been punched in the gut. How had they gone from barely being able to have breakfast together without violence breaking out, to sharing heirloom weaponry and showing mercy? What was going on here? “He made a grand speech about new beginnings and trust and winning wars. Is there going to be another war Sir Allen?” Allen’s head was spinning in all the worst ways. There was a growing possibility that he’d somehow stepped into a parallel universe or some such thing. Judging by the utterly stunned look on Merle’s face, he wasn’t the only one experiencing this strange disconnect.

“I... I believe you should lead me to his rooms.” Yes, that was definitely a Dilandau sized headache he felt coming on. At least on the positive side, his brother wasn’t facing immediate execution, on the down side... it sounded as if the trio had done absolutely everything Allen had expressly ordered them NOT to do. While he really had no control over Van’s actions, he’d truly hoped that the war had toughed the hot headed king a little of the art of subtlety. Clearly such delicacies had flown right over the heads of Dilandau and Gaddes. Honestly, it was a wonder why he even bothered?

Still mulling over the long string of surprises, Allen quickly mounted the provided horse, but before he could guide it away from the fence, he felt a weight land neatly behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Merle perched calmly on the back of his saddle. There was no doubt that she was fully intending to join him in heading to the palace, and one look at the glint in her eyes warned him not to even bother to argue the matter. He really didn’t have time for this foolishness. At least she’d be safe at the palace and he could have some servants keep an eye on her while he sorted out exactly what in Jeture’s name was going on here.

 

The ride was thankfully uneventful and he drew no more than the usual amount of stares as he rode as quickly yet regally to the palace as he could. The guards at the gate nodded him through without issue, though he did take note of the somewhat speculative looks they covertly shot him as he trotted past.

It was much the same at the stables, and the training yard as he strode through, the young messenger having to jog in a most undignified manner to keep up to him, attempting to lead him towards the wing reserved for nobility. Flanked by exotic gardens and the guymlef training yards, it was one of the more breathtaking areas of the palace as far as he was concerned.

This seemed like the most likely place they would be keeping his brother if he had indeed been named “Lord Schezar” and Van would be rooming there as well. Jeture... Lord Schezar... it sounded odd to hear. The name had always been held by his father and Allen himself had steadfastly refused the title, preferring that of a Knight Caeli. Originally it had been because he’d wanted nothing of his father’s. After he’d learned of the man’s true fate, the idea of taking the name as his own hadn’t felt proper. Still, for Dilandau to claim it... Had he fully forsworn Zaibach? Was this just another strange game of his? Bah, there was no sense in wondering about it. He’d know the truth soon enough.

The grounds were deserted for the most part, it was still far too early in the morning for the gentry to be up and about, leaving the servants free to go about their business. He saw the odd washer woman carrying her baskets of clothing, and a few grooms were cleaning the stables and currying horses in preparation for the day.

As such, Gaddes was rather easy to spot as he quickly moved from one of the outbuildings towards a guymelef shed. His strides were long and hurried, though he was appearing to attempt to be unobtrusive. It was a rather familiar series of movements that Allen knew quite well as the sergeant always moved like that when he knew he was in trouble and trying desperately to fix things.

Before he could call out to his friend, another voice called the man’s name. He could practically hear the sergeant swearing under his breath as he turned to face a rather surprisingly under dressed nobleman who was heading out of the hangar. Clad in little more than light pants and an undershirt, the boy couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen and was tall for his age, His strawberry blonde hair was cut rather stylishly, hanging long in front yet short in the back, it wasn’t a style common in Astoria. It was the steel grey eyes and the smooth pale skin which marked the boy as being from Zaibach, though as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, the crisp harsh accent of the northern country was clear to Allen’s delicate ears.

“Sergeant Gaddes!” The boy repeated, drawing close enough now to speak comfortably, though his voice still carried in the silent air of the morning. “Have you seen Lord Dilandau? I was supposed to meet him at 0600 to begin diagnostics on the Alseides with him, but he hasn’t shown yet.” Allen cringed slightly at the worshipful tones behind the boys voice and the obvious excitement behind his words. Granted, that all paled quickly when he actually grasped what had just been said. Diagnostics on the Alseides units? Had King Aston actually invited Dilandau to work with not just on of the brutal war machines, but had in fact put him in charge of overseeing all of them? Clearly his alternate universe theory was growing more and more likely by the moment.

“Yeah... er... he was having breakfast just a little while ago... He must have wandered off... um... you know how he is.” The man was lying, that much was obvious and Allen was willing to bet that the sergeant had very little clue as to where his charge might be. There was no mistaking that nervous twitch he had.

“But he’s with King Fanel correct?” The boy pressed. Regis... that was his name, son of Ambassador Falafell of Zaibach. Allen had had very little contact with the boy himself, though he’d found the ambassador to be a rather unpleasant and spineless man. He was far more concerned with his own continued social standing rather than looking after the best interests of his country. Of course, the best interests of Zaibach seemed to be far from everyone’s minds lately.

“Of course!” Gaddes’ voice was a little high and strained as the man took a tentative step back, clearly wanting to avoid further conversation. “He said something about not feeling well. I’m not sure if he’ll be at classes today. I’ll just go to our room and find out. You stay here and um... keep an eye on those guymelef.”

“That has got to be the worst liar in the history of the world.” Merle murmured from behind him, her voice dripping with scorn. “He has no idea where Dilandau is does he? I can smell the stink of his fear from here.”

“I believe we shall soon find out.” Allen was about as amused as she sounded and having had enough of skulking in the shadows, he boldly stepped forward, walking towards his errant Sergeant and the ambassador’s son, radiating every bit of his impressive authority. It was Regis who caught sight of him first and stood perhaps a little straighter, though Allen honestly had no idea why the boy would be trying to impress him. Gaddes on the other hand looked as if he wanted nothing more than to vanish into the stones beneath his feet. He could even see the man’s eyes darting back and forth, seeking a quick escape route.

“Gaddes.” The knight allowed himself a slight warm smile, wanting to set his man at ease before he sunk in his claws and throttled the life out of him, demanding to know what was going on. “I’m pleased to see that you’re well. We had some concerns after your departure what with the number of brigands on the road. I trust your journey was uneventful?” Thankfully, Gaddes knew this word game well from their youth when they’d talked circles around their peers and superiors. Understanding flickered behind those dark grey eyes as the man forced himself to relax and act as if everything was normal.

“Relatively. Dilandau was feeling a little under the weather for a time, but he felt much better once we reached Palas. Too much sun doesn’t agree with him.” Meaning Dilandau had been injured, but was now recovered... that was rather impressively speedy considering it had only been three days since they’d parted ways. Of course, he had no doubt that Dilandau would gladly lie regarding his physical condition and there was no way the boy would allow a physician anywhere near him to verify fact from fiction. “He and King Fanel are getting along well enough, they’ve even begun training soldiers to be guymelef pilots at the King’s behest.”

Alright, he had Allen there. The knight wasn’t sure what he was referring to with that phrase, though given what he’d just overheard, Gaddes might have been speaking the literal truth.

“Have they now?” He found himself asking, more than a little bemused over this information. “I’d love to see him. Will you show me to his rooms?” Though he phrased it politely, there was no mistaking the order behind it.

“S..sure Boss, no problem.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll join you. Lord Dilandau wanted to go over specs with me and we’re already running late. I know that he’d hate to fall behind” Regis spoke up, giving Gaddes a look that held just a hint of challenge to it. Merle glanced at the two men, unable to hide the slight smirk which tugged at her lips. She could still smell the strong scent of Dilandau on the sergeants body and knew that the two were still intimates, but there was something possessive about this new interloper. It hardly surprised her that the dragonslayer was casting his net wide. She’d heard the joking of the crusade crew, during and after the war regarding the albino’s rumoured appetites. If the sergeant was stupid enough to fall for a pretty face and forget to use his brain, he deserved the headaches he had coming. In fact, this was the perfect opportunity to throw a wrench in whatever romantic plans the turncoat had.

“I think that would be wonderful!” Merle spoke up before anyone else could refuse the intrusive offer and she grabbed onto the nobleman’s arm tightly, not even bothering to hide her smile.

“I’m sure that Dilandau would appreciate your dedication.” Her smile grew even wider as the knight and sergeant both stared at her in open shock, neither having expected this sort of reaction from her. The boy on the other hand looked more warily curious than anything, he was likely trying to figure out what she was up to. “He likes driven and loyal young men.” She continued. “Especially if they’re cute.”

Judging by the way the youth’s cheeks reddened, his interest in the captain was more than professional and that just made Merle want to purr in victory, especially the way Gaddes was doing his best not to shoot her poisonous glares. The sergeant was trying so hard to be discreet about it, but Merle didn’t care. She grinned widely at him as he led them rather reluctantly through the palace to a section she’d grown familiar with during her visits with Lord Van. His own rooms could be found up several flights of stairs and then down the hallway. It seemed that they were housing the psycho in the same area. Her poor king, he likely hadn’t gotten any rest at all since arriving here.

“You think he might like me?” The boy at he side asked her, sounding so adorably hopeful that it almost hurt her not to remind him that he was attempting to court a mass murderer.

“Of course, I mean you’re cute for a human, you’re from Zaibach and you like those big clunky armours he’s obsessed with. Set a few things on fire and you’re pretty much the perfect guy for him.”

Up ahead, Allen had purposefully lengthened his strides, forcing Gaddes to hurry up in order to properly lead the knight towards their rooms. It wasn’t that hard for the blonde to guess where they’d be staying. Most nobles who didn’t live within the city itself often kept rooms at the palace. The same stood for those of ancient enough lineage. The Schezar family belonged to the latter, though their manor was far enough from the city itself to justify the rooms as well. As such, there were a limited number of areas in the palace where he could be housed. It didn’t take much of a grand deduction to conclude that King Aston would have wanted to keep Dilandau close on hand to Van.

It would serve a dual purpose and honestly the knight couldn’t fault the king for the logic behind the planning. He was well aware of the shared animosity between Astoria’s ruler and the zaibach warlord. Van’s proximity would bring out the very worst in Dilandau, prodding him into making a misstep that King Aston could take quick advantage of. There was also the side benefit of the Fanelian king acting as a set of watchful eyes, just in case Dilandau was plotting some sort of mischief.

Of course, given Gaddess’ reaction to his arrival, mischief was exactly what was going on, and for his little brother, that could easily take the form of a city engulfing apocalypse.

“So, you’ve found a place within the court.” Allen began, keeping his voice level and calm even though he desperately wanted to throttle Gaddes and demand to know what in Jeture’s name had been going on for the past three days. Here he’d been terrified that he was going to find his little brother either maimed, incarcerated, or burning the city down around him. Now it turns out that he’s somehow managed to get everything and everyone wrapped around his pale little finger. “And it sounds as if Dilandau has access to a substantial number of guymelef. I must say... this was not what I was expecting.”

He actually saw Gaddes flinch at his words, the man staring guiltily down at the ground as if he were an errant servant expecting a whipping. It was actually somewhat disconcerting for the knight. The two men had known each other for years and been through just about every scenario the fates could throw at them. There was no reason for Gaddes to be acting this way unless he’d done something utterly unconscionable.

“Honestly... I wasn’t expecting it either.” The sergeant murmured. “The kid is actually pretty brilliant in a sneaky and underhanded way when he wants to be.” That earned a slight smile from the knight as he recalled his first few encounters with the albino, working with him on various campaigns and getting to see that devious mind in action.

“He’s often underestimated because of working in Folken’s shadow but he’s far cleverer than most people realize.” Allen admitted softly with a hint of admiration colouring his voice. “It’s when he gets worked up that he tends to act rashly. I’m hoping he manages to grow out of it soon. With some patience... alright, a lot of patience and work, he could actually become a rather brilliant strategist.” It had often been Allen’s belief that had it not been for Dilandau’s growing madness, the war would have turned out much differently than it had. Jeture, if Van hadn’t scarred the young warlord, driving him into a frenzy of rage, the Dragonslayers likely would have captured him in half the time... and with far less collateral damage.

“What happened in the forest?” The knight found himself asking as they walked towards the staircase which would lad them up to the quarters reserved for guests of the highest standing. “We figured some of it out from the scene, but... well honestly, it looks like a war was fought there.”

Katz had led them to the battle site and Allen had never felt so lost and horrified as he’d looked out over the carnage. There were no bodies to be seen, but the blood.... so much blood. The grass had been painted liberally with it to the point that their boots had squelched on the ground. Entire trees had been shattered, the very earth had been dug up and the familiar smell of crima metal had still hung heavily over the area. To see all of this, yet no sign of his brother and friends had been a nightmare and the only thing which had calmed him was the knowledge that there had been a pillar of light. Someone had escaped, someone with the ability to send themselves across the face of Gaea with only their force of will. There was only one person he knew of capable of that feat, and that meant that somehow, Dilandau had survived.

“Yeah.. might want to rethink that statement about him being a good strategist.” Gaddes all but mumbled. “The idiot picked a fight with a guymelef. The little psycho got it into his head that he was just as badass as Balgus Ganesha or something.”

For a moment, Allen’s world screeched to a halt and he felt his heart leap up into his throat at the very thought of his little brother standing firm against an oncoming war machine. It said quite a bit that he didn’t doubt his sergeants words for a moment. It sounded so perfectly like Dilandau.

“How badly was he hurt?” It wasn’t disbelief in his brother’s abilities which prompted the question. Any other warrior would have been killed outright for attempting something so blatantly suicidal, but not even Dilandau for all his luck and skill could escape such a foe unscathed.

For the first time since seeing Allen, Gaddes allowed himself a slight smile, fondness for the psycho in question evident through his entire demeanor.

“Pretty bruised up, which is impressive to say the least, but those bastards hit him with some sort of drugged darts that put him in a coma for the better part of a day. I got hit with a few of them myself and let me tell you, it was no picnic. Those damn things pack one hell of a punch. Personally, I think he’s still feeling the effects from them a little, but be damned if he’ll admit it.”

“What about you? You’re not the type to just sit quietly on the sidelines of a battle. What were you doing while my little brother was playing Legendary Swordsman?” The knight couldn’t help but smile a little, envisioning Gaddes throwing an endless stream of insults at both enemy and ally as they fought against overwhelming odds. Judging by the guilty grin his friend shot him, he wasn’t too far off the mark.

“I might have been fighting like an idiot. But in my defence, running away wasn’t an option and there was no way I was leaving the brat all alone to play hero. Seriously, that kid has an overprotective streak a mile wide when he decides that someone belongs to him.” Gaddes chuckled in amusement for perhaps half a second before his smile abruptly turned into a guilt-ridden grimace. “I got a few scars to show for my stupidity though.” He murmured, suddenly much more subdued. “A crima claw grazed me. Damn thing nearly punched a hole through my guts.” A tanned hand gently pressed against his side in an almost protective fashion. “The kid stepped in front of the claws for me and knocked them aside... saved my life.”

Allen felt a swell of both pride and horror at Gaddes’ words. Yes, it felt wonderful to know that somewhere deep inside the demon haunted depths of his siblings mind, there was still a powerfully noble spirit. It gave him hope that the youth who’d caught his eye so long ago still existed beneath the mad and tortured creature he’d become. It also infuriated him that Dilandau would still put his life in danger so callously. Not even Balgus himself had survived battle with an alseides guymelef, and now he was being told that Dilandau had willingly fought one? Yes, he was relieved that in doing so, Gaddes had survived, but dammit, this was his little brother! He shouldn’t be taking such insane risks!

“He wasn’t trying to kill himself that time.” Gaddes murmured gently, noting the pensive look on his friends face. “In fact, he fought like hell to stay alive. He was responsible for most of the slaughter. Jeture Allen... he was a monster out there. I’ve never seen anything like it. They threw everything they had at him and he tore through them like paper.”

“And Van? Where did he fit in all this?” Allen couldn’t imagine the Fanelian king simply sitting back and doing nothing, even if it involved his long time nemesis fighting a pitched battle.

“Van arrived right at the end. I was out of it by then from the darts I’d been hit with, but from what I can tell, he flew in right as the pillar of light kicked up and got sucked up in it with the rest of us. It grabbed me, Dilandau, Van and Palos.”

“The messenger?” Once again, Allen was shocked and had to fight to keep his calm composure. Well, at least that explained why they’d chosen to reveal themselves. If two of them had required medical attention and a nosy royal messenger was there, they’d had very limited options. While he might not agree with the risks they’d taken, it seemed that they’d paid off in the end.

“Don’t worry about him.” Gaddes smiled slightly, fully aware that Allen was most likely already working out how to deal with the interloper. “He might be mostly useless as far as I’m concerned, but he’s proven to be loyal enough, and really, anyone who’s willing to stick around after witnessing Dilandau’s crazy in full swing it worth keeping.”

“I don’t trust anyone I don’t know.” Allen murmured, pressing his lips together tightly as they reached the top of the stairs and made their way down the hall. “People are far to quick to turn on you when motivated by their own self interest.” Well, Gaddes couldn’t exactly argue that.

“Yeah, the guy’s a bottom feeder, but he’s stood by us so far and even covered for Dilandau a few times. He’s useless in a fight, but he’s been helpful enough since we’ve gotten to Palas. I think we should give him a chance.” Allen still didn’t look overly convinced, leading Gaddes to smile at him and pat the knight on the back. “Look at it this way, what’s the worst he could do? Tell everyone that Dilandau is your little brother? Everyone already knows that. The damage has been done, and surprisingly minimized. Enjoy what fate gives us Boss. She’s a stingy bitch.”

“Stop!” Merle cut in, her voice sharp with worry, causing both men to pause in mid step. The beast girl had shoved Regis to the side and was stalking forward like the predator she shared a kinship with. Wide blue eyes stared down the length of the hallways, her slit irises nearly round as they drank in every ounce of light. A faint growl reverberated from her throat as she studied their surroundings and both men could see that her short fur stood on end.

Unsure of what was going on, Regis took a hesitant step backwards, unsure as to whether or not the young beast girl was going to attack. Thought he’d been living in Astoria for the past six colours, the Zaibach youth still hadn’t quite gotten used to beastkin being treated as equals and while he didn’t openly look down on them, he still didn’t trust them to the degree those around him did. To suddenly find one growling ferally while her tail whipped back and forth didn’t exactly sit well with him and he found his hand straying towards the sword at his hip.

“What’s wrong Merle?” Allen asked calmly, fully aware that while the young girl might be a bit of a nuisance, she would never cause such a display without just cause for concern. As he spoke, he cast a quick glance over at Regis, ensuring that the boy wasn’t about to do anything stupid like actually pull the sword he was now clutching nervously while eyeing the catgirl.

“I smell blood.” She stated as her ears flattened themselves to her skull and her long claws flexed at her fingertips. “A lot of it.” Without giving any sort of warning beyond that haunting statement, she charged forward, more than half convinced that it was her beloved king bleeding out the last of his life. Somewhere deep in her mind, she knew that if i had been Van, she’d have recognized the scent instantly, but that didn’t stop her heart from worrying.

He’d been left alone with a monster, now it smelled like a slaughterhouse in the palace. There really was only one possible explanation as far as she was concerned.

Her forward charge was brought to an abrupt halt as Allen deftly reached out his hand and snagged the back of her dress as she shot past him. With his other hand, he neatly drew his sword while firmly placing her behind him. Always at his side, Gaddes mirrored the motions with his own weapon and both began to advance cautiously.

Furious at being held back, Merle clawed at Allen’s arm, trying to get into a better position to free herself from his grip but he was unrelenting in his protectiveness.

“Let me go you blonde bimbo!” She snarled. “I need to protect Lord Van!”

“You will stay back and allow me to handle this.” Allen seemed unmoved by her emotional outburst and motioned for Regis to come and take her from him. Merle paused in her struggling long enough to shot the teenager a look of pure death, warning him that if he dared to lay a finger within reach, he’d lose it, and likely his entire arm as well. Wisely, the young nobleman stayed back.

“Could Lord Dilandau be hurt?” He asked instead, still appearing ready to draw his blade. “We should call the guards.”

“I’m a Knight Caeli.” Allen reminded him primly, moving forward once again, still reluctantly holding a struggling Merle in his grip. “I can handle anything awaiting us.”

“Yeah, like you handled Dilandau?!” Just because she was being dragged along like an errant child didn’t mean that she couldn’t get her claws into a person and she grinned as she saw both Allen and Gaddes flinch at her words. Taking advantage of the slight lessening of his grip, Merle quickly wriggled away and bolted down the hallway towards the source of the stench. “VAAAAAN!!!” She screamed as she reached the door in question and tried to throw it open, heedless of the danger. “Why won’t it open!?” Her tugs became frantic as she twisted the knob over and over again before degenerating to kicking and clawing at the door. “I need to get in!!”

A strong hand took hold of her shoulder and pushed her aside as Gaddes held up a key for the door in question. Yeah, of course he’d have a key. Merle didn’t doubt for a moment that he was staying in the room with the monster rather than living in the servants quarters or some other lodging. Sure, everyone would think it would be so he could keep an eye on his charge, but the smell on his skin said otherwise. The scent of the albino was too strong to simply be from casual contact, in fact, Merle was rather sure the sergeant hadn’t bathed properly since their last tryst. It was enough to turn her stomach and before she could stop herself, another low growl rose up from her throat.

The instant the lock was turned, she tried to push her way past the two larger males to get in, but they both easily blocked her with their bodies, keeping her back as the wall of stench washed over them all. It was so strong that for a moment, all she could do was gag as she inadvertently drew in a deep lungful of the coppery feces laden stench.

“Sweet Jeture...” Gaddes gasped in horror, frozen to the spot as he stared at the carnage. The previously pale walls had been painted with bright crimson splashes as well as a rather thick spray which coated the sheets of the bed. One of the large chairs by the fireplace had been overturned, as had a table. A bottle of what had likely been wine lay at the edge of a large crimson puddle, the liquid within mingling with the blood, creating an even fouler mess than before.

Th worst by far was the crumpled figure laying in the center of the largest pool of blood. Light brown hair was soaked and matted with gore, as were the once fine silks h wore. It was here that the stench of human waste also flowed from, warning that before dying, the messenger had lost control of his bodily functions. For once, Gaddes couldn’t find it in his heart to mock the man.

“No....” Allen gasped as he strode boldly into the room, his blade at the ready just in case any of the attackers still lingered. His eyes weren’t on the body however, they were on the naked sword laying in a thick puddle of blood inches from Palos’ outstretched hand. The crest on the rain guard was unmistakably that of the Fanelian royal family. Unsheathed and laying in the gore, it was clear to the expert swordsman that it hadn’t been the one to cause the life ending wound on the messenger, nor the other marks of attack which left the walls painted liberally with red. It’s blade was still clean save for where the pooling blood had welled up along the side of the blade and a smudge across the guard. The question was whether it had been dropped there by accident, or left as some sort of sick symbol.

“Van...” Merle gasps softly as she dropped to her knees at the doorway, unable to even force herself to enter the room. The stench was too much, it clogged her nose and felt as if it was seeping into her fur. The sight of so much blood burned it’s way into her eyes, searing her memory as it blended with the many horror filled sights she’d borne witness to during the war. Bodies everywhere, screams calling across the burning ruins which had once been a proud city. She could hear buildings shattering, the heavy stomp of guymelef feet all around her and the heat of the ever present flames washed over her in waves.

Dimly, she heard a voice yelling for the guards, vaguely, she could make out Allen and Gaddes searching through the room, but those were all little more than shadows transposed over the burning of Fanelia, the razing of Castilo and the massacre of Freid.

No, this wasn’t right! Hitomi had said that there would be peace now, that they’d wished for it with pure enough hearts! How could this be happening?

Glazed eyes fell upon the sword laying in the pool of blood and Merle didn’t even try to hold back the broken sob which tore it’s way through her throat. She’d seen that beautiful blade all of her life and held it in awe as a symbol of all that was good and right in the world. Seeing it bathed in crimson death was so wrong, so utterly horrifically twisted that with a strangled cry, she lunged forward into the room, grabbing at it blindly. She had to rescue it! To let it lay there was an insult to everything Van had fought for! It had to be clean, to shine for her beloved king!

Hands were pulling her away even as she reached for its hilt and she slashed at them blindly with her claws, refusing to be swayed from her goal.

“We can’t leave it there!” She yelled, her eyes welling with tears. “Van needs his sword! It’s all he has left from before!” Since he’d first picked it up and accepted his place as the Heir Apparent of Fanelia, the weapon had never left his side. It needed to be with him!

“Don’t touch it Merle!” A voice called out, but she ignored it, finally grabbing at the hilt and pulling it towards her, hugging it close, heedless of the razor sharp edge or the blood which now plastered her fur. She was Fanelian, she was his friend. She would guard the blade with her life until it could be reunited with her king. That’s what she’d do, it was her purpose!

People moved around her and she could hear several yelling at each other, but none of them mattered. All that was important was the sword and giving it back to Van. To that end, she began to methodically clean it, using the edge of her dress until it quickly grew too tacky and filthy to use. All she was doing was smearing blood across the blade and that simply wasn’t acceptable. Looking around, she spied a large piece of cloth laying on the ground, ignored by all the people hurrying around her.

Grabbing it, she was about to use it to continue her cleaning when she smelled the strong scent of Dilandau on the fabric. It had been close to him, held in his arms and for a moment, her claws dug into the cloth, tearing it slightly as she growled out her hatred for the albino. Then, a subtle scent worked its way through her haze, bringing with it a warm familiarity. Van! Van had held this as well, pressed it against his skin! She could smell his sweat mingling with the fresh scent of the night air mingled with the less familiar smell of his feathers.

Confused, she looked more closely at the cloth and blinked several times. In her hands was a flag of Astoria, a large one at that. A few small shining white feathers were trapped in the folds of the cloth and with trembling hands, she carefully picked one up and held it close to her nose as she breathed it in, hoping that the familiarity would calm her... only, it wasn’t Van she smelled in the feather. It was wrong, different in a way that made her fur stand on end once again and she stared at the feather in betrayal, not understanding what was wrong. This was clearly a draconian feather, and Van was the only one! What was going on here?

Snapped out of her haze, Merle now became aware of the guards milling about the room, several with their swords drawn and looking furious. On the other side of the room were Gaddes and Allen. They stood shoulder to shoulder by the bed, their position clearly defensive and their blades were held at the ready. In one of Gaddes’ hands was a second blade, a zaibach sword, and unlike every other weapon in the room, this one’s blade was streaked with blood. It had been used.

“-no way the kid did this!” Gaddes was yelling at the guards, his hand waving in a gesture to encompass the room. “He’d never leave his weapon behind and he certainly wouldn’t leave the Sword of Fanelia behind either. If he’d defeated Van in combat, he’d keep the damn thing as a trophy and lord it over him constantly!”

“Gaddes, that isn’t helping.” Allen murmured under his breath, wishing that his sergeant wouldn’t bring up the young warlords less than admirable qualities.

“It’s simple enough to see!” The guard continued, clearly warming to the subject of treason. “A flag of Astoria in a pool of blood with the Fanelian royal sword laying nearby and a dead noble. This is a clear declaration of war!”

“If Dilandau wanted to declare war on Astoria, he’d burn down Palas a second time!”

“Gentlemen.” The knight allowed his voice to rise slightly and it rang with authority. “This isn’t adding up, that much is clear.” Taking a huge risk, Allen sheathed his weapon and motioned for Gaddes to do the same. They were all on the same side after all and provoking the castle guards was not a good way to announce his arrival back in Palas. “If King Fanel and Dilandau Albatou fought, the damage would be far more extensive than a simple room being untidy.”

Motioning towards the single overturned chair and fallen bottle, the blonde raised a single eyebrow, taking a moment to allow the guards to note the rather significant lack of citywide destruction.

“Both men are expert swordsmen. This scene reeks of an ambush rather than a fight.”

“Lord Schezar has a long history of utilizing ambush tactics against his enemies.” One of the guards stated angrily. For a moment, Allen was honestly confused, not sure who the man was referring to until he remembered that somehow his little brother had managed to lay claim to the family title. Jeture, he was never going to get used to that.

“Lord Dilandau would face King Fanel honourably, like soldiers on the battlefield!” Regis interjected heatedly, quick to defend his idol, no matter how ill informed he might be on his countryman’s tactics. “He’s the superior warrior after all and he succeeded in capturing the king several times during the course of the war!”

“He’s a monster and a proven enemy of King Fanel!” The guard shot back. “There is clear motive behind his actions!” This was obviously the wrong thing to say to the youth as Regis stepped up to the guard until their faces were mere inches apart and though they were the same height, the guard was suddenly all too aware that he was facing down a noble. Worse, it was an upset noble who seemed to have some sort of personal stake in what was taking place here. One misstep could easily cost the guard his precious position at court. Noticing his predicament, the two other guards in the room began to move closer to their comrade, not trusting the zaibach noble to mind himself in this tense situation.

“They were working together yesterday!” Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, Regis seemed to realize the scene he was causing and quickly changed tactics. Rather than seeking to drive the guard only his heels with openly displayed anger and aggression, he stood back and glared coolly at the man, allowing only his smouldering grey eyes to display the rage burning within. “Have you so quickly forgotten the speeches regarding unity they both made? How King Fanel himself lent Lord Dilandau his hereditary blade for a duel? Your shortsightedness is wasting valuable time. Clearly there is more involved here than you’re capable of seeing. I demand that you bring the Heir here at once! He’ll understand how to proceed.”

“Bring Princess Millerna too.” Merle spoke up during the ensuing stare down. Her voice made everyone in the room jump in shock, though she didn’t even notice. Instead, her attention was fixed on the too still form of the messenger as he lay in his crumpled heap. “I think this guy is still alive... but if you keep arguing like idiots, he won’t be for much longer.”

 

 

“I need more light!” The princess demanded, her voice sharp with authority as she stood over the body of Palos, working against time to save his life. Merle, having found herself suddenly drafted into helping was gently squeezing an air filled bladder every seven seconds, carefully counting out the passage of time while she stared at the princess’ hands as they practically flew back and forth, stitching together torn ligaments with a fine needle and even finer thread. The stink of alcohol made her nose itch terribly but at least it was better than all of the other things she could be smelling. Still, there was a growing desperate longing to escape the oppressive room for the much cleaner air of the hallway but she didn’t dare desert her post. Milllerna had made it clear when she’d drafted them to be her assistants that anyone who left once she started would deal with a fate best left uncontemplated.

For all that Merle thought that the princess was a silly little girl who had nothing better to do with her days than moon over men or try on pretty dresses, the woman could be rather terrifying when she wanted to be. No wonder she was going to be queen of Astoria despite being the youngest child of the king. He didn’t dare say otherwise.

They were still in the bedroom with all of it’s gore filled horror. Millerna had taken one look at the fallen messenger and abruptly stated that they didn’t dare move him anymore than absolutely necessary. The man’s life was hanging by a thread as it was. The guards had quickly been deemed to be superfluous and ordered out of the room with instructions to bring her a table and as many clean cloths as possible along with her medical kit.

Though many at the palace still viewed the princess’ fascination with medicine to be little more than an amusing pass-time, they knew better than to ignore her order, especially when it was backed by the authority of the Heir himself. Said heir was in fact currently poking about the room, looking into various corners and studying bloody boot prints on the floor with avid interest. It seemed he was the only one able to decline Millerna’s orders, though he still made damn sure to be busy... or at least appear so.

All of them were dressed in strange white robes, their hair hidden behind uncomfortable gossamer nets and even their mouths were covered by cloth. Merle loathed having her senses muffled in such a way, but she knew better than to voice her discomfiture lest she be ordered out of the room. As much as she didn’t want to be doing this task, she dreaded having to sit there in the hall in ignorance, hoping that someone remembered to fill her in on what was happening.

Regis was still present as well, dressed in a similar fashion and manning a strange series of tubes the princess had set up which seemed to draw blood from a large vat, carrying it into a hollow needle with had been slid into one of Palos’ veins. Judging by the contraptions strangeness and the young nobleman’s passable familiarity with it, Merle deemed that this was likely some sort of Zaibach device. The very idea of using it made her fur rise up, but she trusted the princess to make the best decisions possible. Besides, it’s not like it was Van on the table. Granted, this messenger might be the only on who knew what had happened. They needed him alive at all costs!

“Breathe damn you.” She hissed softly as she gave the bladder another careful squeeze. It was strange to think that she was actually breathing for the man, but his chest was rising and falling slightly every time she used the bag, convincing her that it was indeed working. The bladder had been attached to a shaped leather mask which fit over the messengers mouth and nose. Inside the mask was a long rubber tube which the Princess had deftly slipped down his throat, explaining that every time the bag was compressed, it would force air into the man’s lungs. The tube would make sure the air actually got there despite the gaping wounds to the throat in question.

The whole process was more than a little fascinating and Merle still couldn’t quite get over the fact that a man’s life was wholly in her hands. If she stopped squeezing, his lungs would deflate and he’d die. In her opinion, no one should have that level of power over another living creature. It was just wrong.

“Don’t you want to get revenge?” She continued to whisper. “Fight to stay alive! You have to tell me what happened!”

Off to the side, Millerna ordered Allen to thread another needle, this one thinner than the previous and strangely rounded. Using strange metal tools to act as extended fingers, allowing her to reach deep into the wound without further damaging surrounding tissue, she began to work on another section of the wound. Everything seemed to be going so slowly as far at the cat girl was concerned, but there was something strangely magical about what she was watching. The man’s throat had been slit from ear to ear but somehow he’d managed to avoid having one of his arteries severed. At least that was more or less what Millerna had explained. He’d lost a lot of blood and could very easily die in the next hour or so, but there was still the chance to save him.

It made Merle shudder to think of what it must have been like to lay there in your own blood, feeling the life flowing out of you but not being able to do anything about it. To hear people moving around you, yelling and arguing, all the while believing that you were dead. There was nothing more harrowing that she could think of to compare to the utter helplessness that must have overwhelmed the man.

Guilt rose up inside her as she thought about how even she’d dismissed him as nothing more than a corpse, not even noticing the faint rise and fall of his chest. In fact, the only reason she’d been even aware of the life still being so desperately clung to was the softest of groans which had slid from the ruin of his throat while the others had been lost in their argument. Had she been any further away from the downed man, she’d have missed hearing it.

She was beastkin, her senses were far superior to the humans around her, and as much as she wanted to lay the blame on the stench in the air or her preoccupation with worrying about her king, she had to admit that she hadn’t even bothered to check him for life. None of them had. They’d just assumed that he was dead and moved onto what they’d all considered to be the truly important details.

Hopefully the man had been too far gone to know that his life had been so callously disregarded. Being overlooked was something Merle had grown used to over the years, but even she felt secure in the knowledge that if she’d been found in a similar state, her friends would have checked for signs of life. It made her feel a rather powerful and unaccustomed surge of guilt deep inside and silently she vowed to learn from this and ensure that this man’s fight for life wasn’t so easily overlooked in the future.

“I need some suction.” This time it was Gaddes who stepped forward with a similar bladder to Merle’s, only his had the opposite function. He squeezed it tightly then carefully released his grip as he gently brushed the end of his own rubber tube around the edges of the torn flesh. The sergeant’s jaw was clenched so tightly that a muscle in his cheek fluttered but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Come on you pain in the ass.” He murmured softly much as Merle was doing. “Don’t you dare die on me! I swear that when you’re back on your feet, I’m getting the brat to teach you how to actually use that damn sword of yours because I’m not doing this a second time!” Whether Millerna found their one sided dialogues to be helpful or distracting was a mystery they likely never would solve, but seeing as how she wasn’t stopping either of them, they both continued their strange little rallying cries.

After what felt like hours, the princess finally tied off the last stitch and carefully wrapped a gauze bandage around the man’s throat before leaning back and brushing her hand across her sweaty brow. No one bothered to mention that she left a ragged crimson streak in its wake. All of them were bloody and the princes now looked more like the survivor of a vicious battle than a member of the royal court of Astoria. Still, victory shone in her eyes and even Merle had to admit that there was something awesome about the woman as she stood over the supine form of the man who’s life she’d saved.

“It’s up to the will of Jeture now.” She stated with a gentle reverence while placing her tools on the small tray next to the operating table. “I’ve done what I can. If his heart is pure, he’ll survive.”

“Will he recover?” Allen was the one to ask the real question as he gave the unconscious man a weighted look, wishing desperately to be able to shake him back to wakefulness and demand the answers they all so desperately wanted. “I’ve never seen anyone recover from wounds like this. He should be dead by now.”

Millerna gave a soft sigh and carefully slid the gloves from her hand, depositing them in a small bag, motioning for the others to do the same with theirs.

“We have no way of knowing. The damage was severe and he lost a lot of blood but I don’t think that it was enough to damage his brain.” She glanced down at her handiwork, making note of the man’s skin colour and his breathing. The tube had been carefully removed and he seemed to be breathing steadily, though shallowly on his own which was a massive improvement but she still wasn’t about to leave him alone just in case his condition deteriorated. “All we can do is keep him stable until he decides to wake up. Even then, he might not remember the incident.” Her tone of voice carried a clear warning to all of them. Don’t push the man and don’t harass him. “Shock can muddle the mind, especially when the injury is as severe as this. If you’re counting on him for all of your answers, you just might find yourselves to be sorely disappointed.”

This clearly wasn’t what any of them wanted to hear and everyone in the room fixed Palos with a dark glare, as if daring him to not remember. Merle in fact was vaguely considering shaking the man a few times to see if that woke him up when Dryden loudly cleared his throat, capturing everyone’s attention. Looking over found the man leaning casually against the fireplace. He made a rather pretty picture considering he was the only one in the room not currently covered in blood, likely why he chose to stand in the cleanest part of the room.

“Perhaps instead of waiting for answers which may never be forthcoming, we should examine the clues laid out for us.” He suggested with a rather rakish grin. In no mood for the heirs games, Allen stalked forward and glared at him, pausing only long enough to brush a blood soaked lock of golden hair out of his face.

“Speak plainly then Dryden. This is my younger sibling we’re talking about here, not some random mystery.”

“Clearly you’re close if you still refer to him with such warm terms as _sibling._ ” Dryden teased gently, the smile never leaving his face. “Honestly Allen, I speak to him in more familiar terms than you do.” Bloody fingers clenched into tight fists as the Knight Caeli gave serious consideration to throttling the heir to the throne, repercussions be damned.

“Dryden, stop baiting Allen and tell him what you know.” Millerna huffed as she carefully pulled the bloody surgical robe off and tossed it in the bag with the bloody gloves. Her once beautiful gown hadn’t been fully protected by the garment and a spattering of stains decorated the lacy collar not to mention the deep crimson stains marring her hems. Still, she moved like the princess she was as she headed over to her husband and sank down into the one still upright chair, stretching out the kinks in her back.

Looking somewhat contrite, Dryden gazed fondly at his wife before glancing back at Allen.

“Your initial statement was correct Sir Allen.” He stated, hoping to ease the rather upset knights temper. While baiting Allen was one of his favourite pastimes, he knew that he was rapidly reaching the limit of the man’s patience. “I don’t believe that Dilandau attacked Van.” He smiled wryly at the memory of his previous encounters with the hot blooded youth, remembering that unquenchable fire burning in the depths of those strange crimson eyes. “If he had, there would have been far more than a single chair tipped over despite the rather impressive amount of blood.”

He motioned towards the spray of crimson decorating the bed covers and the wall nearby with an elegant flip of his hand.

“You found Dilandau’s sword unsheathed and bloody by the bed correct?” Gaddes, nodded cautiously and glanced over at the weapon in question as it lay on the foot of the bed, practically radiating sullen accusation. The Sergeant couldn’t help but feel utterly responsible for what had happened. If he hadn’t driven Dilandau away, they’d have been together and he’d have been able to lend aid. Hells, the kid had been an utter wreck when he’d leaped off the balcony hours ago. Chances were that he hadn’t even been aware of an enemy approaching until it was too late... or worse, he hadn’t cared. Gaddes could all too easily picture the young warrior deciding that he’d had enough. After all the blows he’d endured, all the emotional pain and torture, death might have seemed like the better choice. Only, he doubted that death had been what the attackers had had in mind. If it had been, they would have left the body behind.

“I believe that Dilandau managed to draw his blade and attack one of them, wounding them badly before being disarmed. Said attacker was then either helped out, or carried out by their compatriots.” He pointed to the trail of blood leading from the bed to the balcony doors which still stood open to the world. “There was more than one man involved as well. I counted three separate boot prints in the blood, none of them belong to either Van or Dilandau.”

“You know what their footprints look like?” This time it was Merle who interjected, unable to keep her voice from sounding openly suspicious. She knew that Dryden enjoyed appearing far more knowledgeable about the world than those around him, but that was simply too far fetched.

“Of course not.” The heir replied, hardly sounding insulted by her accusation. “But I do know what they don’t look like. Look at the size of those prints.” Dryden motioned towards the deep crimson smudges on the floor. Only a few were clear enough to show the size and shape of the boots in question. “These prints are large and wide enough for the person in question to be Allen’s height at the very least though likely quite a bit heavier.” Interested now, Merle leaned closer to the marks on the floor, wishing that she’d actually taken the time to learn how to track properly. “Those are from soldiers boots, or something similar. You can see the metal studs in the soles on that mark on the left by your foot Merle.

“Now, while I don’t know precisely what either Van or Dilandau’s boot prints look like, I do know that Van isn’t that large and his feet are in proportion to the rest of him. Dilandau’s feet are rather slender and narrow, not to mention that he was wearing court boots, not his armoured ones. Unless you saw fit for some reason to return his old uniform to him recently?” Dryden’s green eyes flickered over to Gaddes for a moment and the sergeant quickly shook his head. “Then the prints clearly didn’t come from him.”

“But how could three men overpower Lord Dilandau as well as King Fanel?” Regis spoke up, his eyes already searching out the prints in question, wanting to confirm the heir’s words for himself. “Both are incredible warriors, I spent all day yesterday training with them and they were better than anyone else on the field.”

“They were drunk.” Gaddes stated, his voice sounding flat and hollow to his own ears as he pointed to the fallen wine bottle. “When I saw Van earlier, he was already drinking... he took the bottle with him when he went to look for Dilandau... It smelled like whisky.”

“Van doesn’t drink, let alone indulge in whisky.” Allen snapped heatedly, earning himself a matching glare from Gaddes who’s nerves had finally reached their breaking point after a sleepless and stress filled night.

“Why would I lie about that?”

“I wasn’t saying you were lying.” Allen visibly struggled to reign in his temper, reminding himself that this was his best friend and that the man had every right to be worried. “I just don’t understand why he’d be drinking whisky. He barely touches wine during dinner.”

Now it was Gaddes’ turn to run his fingers through his hair as he weighed what exactly to tell his commander and the others. Given everyone’s tempers, the whole truth was not only suicidal but wouldn’t accomplish anything in the long run other than tear them all apart. Still, he had to give them some sort of explanation or else he’d be risking Dilandau’s safety and slowing down their rescue.

“We got into the Sorcerer’s files on the experiment.” He finally said, then belatedly realized that Regis, a Zaibach citizen was still in the room listening in. For a moment, he was struck mute, unsure as to what to say and horrified at the idea of Dilandau’s tortures becoming public knowledge. There was no way he was trusting anyone from that insane country, not after what he’d heard about in those files.

For a long moment, everyone was silent, wondering why Gaddes had ceased speaking. Then, one by one, they all looked over at the Zaibach noble, their collective eyes narrowing. Regis, in a show of rather astonishing backbone, met their collective stares with one of his own and squared his shoulders before raising his chin slightly in patriotic pride.

“It was common knowledge that he was an experimental soldier.” The teenager stated boldly. “A new breed of warrior created to usher in a new glorious age for Zaibach.” There was no apology in his voice and no coyness either. The kid was either a phenomenal liar, or he had no idea what those experiments had actually entailed. Gaddes was betting on the latter. As crazy as they all might be, he couldn’t imagine the citizenry sitting back and allowing such utterly inhumane experiments to take place.

“There were posters of him all over the Capital” Regis continued. “There were rumours all around the academy that those chosen by him would be made into super soldiers, superior to all other humans. Everyone figured that that’s how the Ryuugekitai were so successful on all their missions.” Seeing the blank looks on the faces of those around him, the teenager shrugged slightly and smiled with just a trace of smugness. “The Dragonslayers.” He clarified, using their more common title. “A new soldier for a new age. That was the slogan we always heard concerning Dilandau. He was amazing and the stories about him... I’d always thought that there had to be some embellishment to them, but after meeting him and training with him for a day, I believe all of them! He really is more than human!”

“Calm down loverboy.” Merle cautioned as she happily tore the bloody clothes off of herself. “His ego is wild enough as it is, he doesn’t need anyone making it worse.”

Ignoring the two youngest members of the group, Gaddes returned his attention to Allen, noting the man’s pensive silence. Dryden was also studying the knight, his eyes partially obscured by his wild curls, though there was no mistaking the shrewd glint in their depths.

“How bad was it?” The knight asked softly and all Gaddes could do was shake his head, unwilling to divulge Dilandau’s horrifying past in such a public setting.

“Bad enough to make Van drink.” Was all he’d say on the matter.

“You mentioned going to look for Dilandau. He ran away?” Millerna asked, attempting to pull the conversation away from such a potentially volatile topic and onto something... well, still volatile but for different reasons.

Nodding his head at the Princess, Gaddes admitted defeat and did his best not to look at the balcony and think of that last sight of the beautiful alabaster godling on his knees and begging Gaddes for just a single sign of affection to keep his demons at bay. Jeture... how could he have been so cold as to refuse him? What sort of monster was he? Clearly this was Jeture punishing him for his cruelty.

“We... had a fight. It wasn’t pretty and... and he stormed out. He’s really good at losing people he doesn’t want following him. I... I knew he likely wasn’t thinking clearly and what would happen if the guards found him, so I went to get Van to help look for him. I’m guessing they found each other and well, finished off the bottle Van had with him, then likely started on this one here. At that point, I doubt either of them was in much shape to fend off an attack of any sort.”

“So if they were so drunk how come Dilandau managed to hurt someone badly while Van didn’t? Van was trained by Balgus, he knows how to fight better than anyone.” Merle argued. Sure the explanation made sense, but she refused to believe that her beloved Van had failed where that psycho had succeeded. Gaddes simply shrugged and motioned again to the bottle.

“Dilandau is a rather high functioning alcoholic. I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen him completely sober now that I think about it.” Saying that made him feel as if he was betraying the kid’s confidence on some level and Gaddes couldn’t help but notice how Allen flinched slightly yet didn’t deny his statement. Good, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed and let it slide. It was nice to share the guilt. “He hits the bottle pretty hard when he’s angry about something... and he was pretty pissed off last night.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be his guardian?” Dryden asked, a slight frown easing his previous smirk.

“He’s a legal adult in Astoria, by your and the king’s decree.” Gaddes was quick to remind the man and honestly, he really wished that this was under better circumstances because the look on Allen’s face was rather priceless. Too bad he was too upset to properly enjoy it. “I can’t make him do anything and really, it’s either he gets drunk or he goes on a murder spree. I figured this was the lesser of the two evils.” Granted, considering what had happened, maybe he should have encouraged the kids more murderous urges. Better to have dead kidnappers than lose Dilandau to those hellish sorcerers.

Jeture, just thinking about it made his stomach churn. He couldn’t get those files out of his head, or the toneless voice Dilandau had used when reading them out loud. To think that he’d grown up in that nightmare. The death, the violence, knowing that at any given moment he could be murdered... being assaulted over and over again until he thought that it was normal and acceptable behaviour... until he needed it.

Closing his eyes, Gaddes reached out a hand and braced himself against the back of Millerna’s chair, utterly ignoring proper protocol in favour of not vomiting on the spot.

“We need to get him back. Both of them.” He whispered to himself though the entire room heard the horror behind his voice. “We need to get them back before there’s nothing left to save.”


	2. Into Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van has to deal with vile kidnappers and an unruly cellmate. It's a race to see which will kill him first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to me!! As a gift, I give you Chapter 2 waaay ahead of schedule! Hope you enjoy!  
> Fair warning, this is NOT a happy chapter. It's dark and full of hopelessness because let's face it, neither of our boys are in a good healthy headspace right about now.
> 
> As usual, I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters. I'm just having a blast ruining their lives.

Van was dying. It was the only possible explanation for the sheer amount of pain currently consuming his body. Every breath caused the already intense pressure in his skull to grow exponentially, causing him to wonder if his skull had been severely fractured. He could almost feel the shattered plates of bone shifting across the surface of his brain, tearing apart the sensitive organ beneath.

Even his heart was against him. Every beat shattered through him like a physical beating, but no amount of willing it to stop seemed to help. All he could do was sit there and suffer. Deliberately, he drew in several slow deep breaths, trying to establish some sort of equilibrium within the ruined confines of his skull. He could do this, he’d been hurt worse in the past and he’d recovered. This would be no different.

Eventually the pain didn’t so much fade as become familiar enough to overcome and he was able to push it aside somewhat and move onto the next step... establishing just what exactly had happened.

Groaning softly, he opened his eyes only to realize his newest mistake as brilliant shads of splintered light tore ruthlessly into his corneas, shattering the fragile balance of pain. Explosions detonated behind his eyes and the world spun around him in a sickly fashion as the rest of his body chose this moment to rebel violently. He barely had time to turn his head to the side before his stomach rejected it’s contents, coating his leg with a foul mix of bile and sour wine. The smell only added to his misery and once again, he found himself silently praying to all of Gaea’s gods for death.

“Great... we’re going to be smelling that for the rest of the trip. You realize that right?” A familiar voice grumbled off to his right. Something about it warned him of danger, the need to defend himself... but right now, he couldn’t quite find it within himself to care.

His stomach seized up again, determined to purge his system as violently as possible with little regard to the rest of his body’s well being. The world twisted once again and he tried to bring his hands down to brace himself but found that they wouldn’t obey his commands. For some reason they were resting above his head and had no interest in lowering despite his best efforts. As a result, he was left half fallen in a spreading pool of vomit which was already soaking into his pants, and now he was aware of the rather growing ache in his shoulders.

“Do yourself a favour and choke on it.” The voice spoke again. “I mean it. While it’s not the most preferable way to die, it’s better than what we’re heading to.”

After the violent purge, Van found that his head was clearing somewhat, enough to note the defeated and scared tones behind the cruel words. Blinking his eyes in an effort to clear the black spots from his vision, he shifted enough to be able to look at his companion.

Ghostly pale and about as bedraggled as he felt, Dilandau sat on the floor less than a foot away, his hands bound above his head with thick chains secured to the wall behind them. A livid bruise covered the left side of his face and his lower lip was split. Flecks of crimson decorated his messy snowy white hair, and his bared torso was a mess of fresh bruises overlaying older yellowing ones. Someone had given him one hell of a beating but by the look of it, he’d escaped serious internal damage. Fresh white bandages decorated one of his arms and there was the dark stain of fresh blood marring the surface.

Amazingly, the shining white feather hanging from his neck still shone brightly, undamaged or dirtied by whatever had put the young albino through the wringer and it’s soft glow appeared to be their only source of light.

Bleary crimson eyes stared into his and Van cringed deep inside at how fractured they looked. The other teenager was barely holding onto his sanity and it looked like it was a losing battle. Even as he watched, he could see the minute trembling of those slender limbs and how Dilandau chewed at his lower lip, oblivious to how he was making the cut even worse.

“W...where are we?” Van found himself asking, taking a moment to spit out the remaining dregs of his sickness into the vile mess on the floor. Giving his arms another experimental tug showed that he was bound in a similar fashion, though he couldn’t quite find it within himself to look up. That required far too much movement for his body to handle right about now. Oh look, even his feet had been bound together and chained to the floor. Clearly they’d made some sort of impression on their captors. Pity he couldn’t remember any of it.

Dilandau’s eyes quickly gave him a once over, likely assessing damage and general state of health. Though Van felt somewhat more confident that he’d survive the next few minutes, that didn’t seem to give the other boy any sort of comfort.

Crimson eyes glanced up into his once more, then flicked around the room nervously, never resting on anything for more than a moment, especially the faint outline of the door which stood immediately across from them both.

“The Daedalusians believe that when you die, you are ferried to the Underworld beneath the waves on an ancient boat to be judged by Posiodin. If you’re deemed worthy, you’re turned into a fish and welcomed to live upon the waves and providing your descendants with plentiful bounty, becoming one with them forever. If you’re unworthy, you’re turned into a crab and are doomed to spend eternity crawling across the ocean floor scavenging offal.” Those shattered eyes closed for a moment as the albino drew in a deep shuddering breath. “Consider this the ferry... and the crabs are lucky compared to what’s in store for us.”

It was hard to keep his stomach from churning as his mind called up images of twisted crabs with the faces of tortured souls on their shells crawling across a dark sandy ocean floor, devouring sea rotted carcasses until the end of time. Trust Dilandau to be overly dramatic about everything. You’d think this was the first time he’d ever been captured by an enemy.

“So where are we really?” He really didn’t like relying on the dragonslayer for information, but the other boy was clearly in better shape than he was... at least physically. Mentally? He wasn’t going to put a single gidaru on that.

“We’re on a leviship bound for Basram. I thought that would have been obvious.” There was a distinct edge to the reply, as if somehow this was all his fault. While Van wasn’t sure exactly what had happened to bring them to this current situation, he was rather sure that if anyone was to blame, it was the pale psychopath next to him.

“Any idea’s how we got here?” If nothing else, it might be interesting to hear Dilandau’s version of events, no matter how distant from reality they might be. Rather than hear a near endless litany of how everything was Van’s fault and that the young captain would one day take revenge for it, his face and his men, Dilandau simply let his head loll back, thudding solidly against the wall.

“No clue.” He admitted after a moment. “We were pretty drunk. For all I know, we walked right up to them and asked them to take us.” Pale lips twisted up into a wry smile as both of them glanced down at the obvious beating the captain had endured. “But personally I’d like to think that we gave them hell.”

“Sure.” Van agreed, allowing himself a slight shrug then before gasping in pain as the movement pulled muscles which had spent far too long in one unnatural position. “We’ll go with that.” It was better than the alternative possibilities. Gritting his teeth, the darker teen tugged at his wrists experimentally and heard an answering clink of chains. Yup, he was bound to the wall just like Dilandau. Honestly, he really needed to stay the hell away from the Dragonslayer. Things never went well for him whenever he was around the albino.

“I’m surprised you haven’t picked the lock or something and made your escape.” He grumbled after a few more cautious tugs confirmed that whoever had chained him had known what they were doing. While the metal cuffs were snug against his wrists, they didn’t bite into the skin unnecessarily. So long as he didn’t struggle too violently, he likely wouldn’t injure himself. Hardly surprising then that Dilandau’s own wrists were bleeding.

There was a soft and somewhat broken laugh at his statement, causing Van to glance over at the other teen curiously. Clearly Dilandau wasn’t handling captivity well whereas thanks to the war, Van was far more familiar with the ordeal. So long as no one tried to pull his heart out again via Escalfowne, he was pretty sure he’d be able to handle anything they threw at him.

“So why haven’t you escaped? Altruism isn’t exactly your thing.”

“I suck at picking locks.” Dilandau spat out at him, favouring the king with a sullen glare. “Not that I can do much chained up like this even if I could.” Well that was sort of a surprise. He’d always figured that his pale rival would have been the sort of master all sorts of unsavoury skills.

“You managed to untie those ropes easily enough earlier.” Honestly, he had no idea why he was even arguing this. Most likely it was habit. Without the benefit of alcohol, the two of them were quickly reverting to familiar patterns of behaviour, which meant that any minute now, he could expect an attempt on his life.

“Knot work is quite a bit different than picking locks, especially when I don’t have any tools beyond my own fingernails and spite.”

“Couldn’t you at least do another pillar of light or something? Come on, every time you’re faced with certain death, something comes along and bails you out. Why should this be any different.”

“It doesn’t work like that!” The Dragonslayer snapped, giving his wrists a sharp tug before glaring up at his shackles as if they’d personally offended him. “I don’t even remember how the damn thing worked, it just sort of happened. Besides, if I could get away, do you really think I’d be here?” He gave another sharp tug as he spoke, this one harder. “Even if I could get out, there’s no way I could fly and carry your lazy ass without killing us both.”

Well, that certainly was an unexpected statement and for a moment, Van was utterly silent, digesting the words and the intent behind them. Likely utterly unaware of what he’d just said, Dilandau continued to struggle against his chains, the already stained bandages on his wrist growing darker with new blood.

“You wouldn’t leave me behind?” The king finally hazarded, not quite able to grasp this sudden turnabout in attitude. Whether it was the tone of voice, or the question itself, something caught Dilandau’s attention and he paused in his struggles long enough to give Van a somewhat confused stare.

“Of course not.” The Dragonslayer stated it the way one would with only the most obvious information. “No one gets to kill your feathered ass but me. I owe you Van, for my face, for my men and for my damn country.” Oddly enough, the statement actually made Van smile somewhat. With everything in his life constantly turning upside down around him, it was sort of nice having something remain consistent.

Apparently satisfied with the conversation, Dilandau resumed tugging viciously at the shackles with little regard for the state of the delicate skin around his wrists. The bandages were soaked now and the dragonslayer showed no interest in stopping. Honestly, did he really think that the metal would give out before his flesh and bones?

“You shouldn’t do that.” He warned the pale youth, fully aware that being told to stop it was likely only going to encourage the bullheaded idiot even more. “You’re bleeding all over those bandages.”

“So?” The rattling of the chains wasn’t helping Van’s headache at all, though part of him was tempted to just let Dilandau continue with his self mutilation, knowing that eventually he’d pass out from blood loss and grant the king some peace.

“So? Someone took the time to already bandage you up once. It’s stupid to keep hurting yourself when it’s obvious you’re not going to get out of those by brute force.”

As expected, Dilandau sneered at him arrogantly and continued his struggles. It reminded Van of stories Rhuum would tell him about animals caught in traps who’d gnawed off their own legs in order to escape. He was pretty sure that if Dilandau could reach his wrists, he’d likely consider that to be an acceptable option.

“What did you do to your wrist anyway?” He found himself asking. If nothing else, talking might distract the pale moon from the incessant clanging, giving Van some level of relief. Granted, he was actually curious as to the answer. Originally he’d figured that it had been due to the dragonslayer’s continued struggles, but only one wrist was bound with bandages, the other was unmarked, or at least had been before Dilandau had started shredding it against the cuffs edges.

Glancing up at the bandage in question, Dilandau’s expression shifted subtly into a look of irritation and disgust, as if the gauze had somehow offended him on a personal level.

“Yeah, that.” He all but spat. “When I first woke up, I tried to bite my wrist open. Bleeding out would have been preferable to what’s coming. Unfortunately the little bitch stopped me before I could get deep enough though and then the guards caught me. Bit two of them pretty badly though and I broke one of their knees before they tied my feet down.” This time his grin was pure viciousness and that familiar mad light glimmered in the depths of his eyes. “I’d have tried to do you first, but I couldn’t reach you.” There was almost a note of apology in his voice and it chilled Van to the bone. What the hell was going on in that guy’s brain to think that he’d want to be murdered? That having someone gnaw open his wrists would be a preferable fate to whatever they were about to face.

Then Van remembered the little room beneath the palace and the vile secrets they’d uncovered. _Someone who’s been through it once before._ His mind supplied. They were being brought back to the man who’d tortured and abused Dilandau all of his life,. The man who’d used him, experimented on him and turned him from a sweet little girl to the tortured and maddened monster he was. No wonder Dilandau would choose death over returning back to the nightmare he’d grown up in. Just the sheer thought of what lay in store for them made the young king nearly vomit once more.

It didn’t take much imagination to know what was in store for him once they landed. A slight shudder wracked his body as memories welled from deep within his mind of his previous incarcerations. The worst one by far was of laying there in a glorified birdcage while the sorcerers had tried to pull Escaflowne apart, wholly unaware that he’d bonded with the mighty guymelef. He’d never experienced that level of pain in his life and he was pretty sure that his heart was being slowly pulled form his chest. The worst part of it had been feeling that much pain and being unable to do anything to alleviate it for even a moment. There’d been no enemy to strike at, no person he could plead to for mercy and not even a face he could put to the agony he was being forced to endure. All he’d been able to do was lay there in his cage, screaming into the darkness helplessly. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to experience again, yet here he was, about to be dragged into that nightmare a second time. Only this time around, there was no chance of Escaflowne flying in to rescue them. They were wholly on their own.

While he wanted to avoid that fate at all costs, he knew there had to be a better way to escape it than chewing off limbs or other such idiotic nonsense. He just had to believe in himself and not give up. Just as importantly, he had to somehow convince Dilandau not to give up either.

“Don’t tell them that I have wings.” The aforementioned albino’s voice pulled Van out of his little pep talk and the king looked over, noting that the other teen had finally stopped struggling against his restraints. The pale chest rose and fell rapidly though, warning that the dragonslayer was hardly as calm as he appeared despite his somewhat deadpan voice.

Rather than look over at Van, those crimson eyes were fixed on a section of blank wall, their gaze unfocused and making Van wonder just what it was his rival was seeing. Somehow he doubted it was the wall. Most likely, he was remembering his time back under the sorcerers care or some such horror.

“They’d find it fascinating and tear me apart trying to pull them out... If they actually managed to find them, they’d take them away and I’d never fly again.” Dilandau swallowed nervously, his eyes never wavering from that section of wall he was staring at with near obsessive intensity. “I can’t lose the sky. Don’t let them take it away from me.”

There was something so innocent and pleading in that normally cold and cruel voice that Van found himself nodding before he even realized what he was agreeing to.

“I won’t tell them.” He murmured, rather surprised that he’d agreed to do anything to help his old enemy. Of course, Folken had once told him that the enemy of your enemy is your friend. After what he’d learned about the Zaibach sorcerers, that pretty much made the two teens bosom buddies.

Accepting his promise without further argument, those pale lashes closed for a long moment and a look of resignation seemed to radiate from the captive dragonslayer. Van waited for nearly a minute before deciding that Dilandau must have fallen asleep or something and was debating on attempting to do the same when the other youth’s voice shattered the silence once more.

“They’ll already know what you are and be prepared for it.” There was no mistaking the warning tones in Dilandau’s voice. Looking over at him, Van saw that those twin crimson eyes were locked on him, the flames of madness flickering once more in their depths. “They didn’t get a chance to study Folken, but no one will be there to protect you.” The words and the implications behind them made Van’s stomach churn rather uncomfortably and he really wished that the albino would be silent. Contrary as always, Dilandau continued to speak in that strange disassociated voice of his.

“When I say study, I mean torture of course.” The dragonslayer continued. “They really don’t know any other way, and most of them secretly enjoy it.” A pale pink tongue tip darted out between Dilandau’s lips, making them glisten for a moment in the dim light of the glowing feather. “You’ll be tied down to a table as cold as ice and the restraints will be too tight. They’ll cut into your wrists, but you’ll struggle anyway. It’s impossible to avoid and honestly, I think they like it better that way. You see, the more you move or fight them, the more painful they’ll make it, just to punish you. Even when you realize this, you’ll still try to fight them. The trick is to fight them just enough for them to feel powerful but not enough to ruin the lines of their cuts. If they grow angry with your struggles, they won’t reward you afterwards.”

“Dilandau... I know what they did to you as a ‘reward’. I don’t intend to ever let that happen to either of us. I’d rather die first.” The nausea inside him was growing stronger and he tried not to notice how Dilandau’s only reply to his bold statement was a soft exhalation, more of a quiet and indulgent chuckle. No doubt he was considering the declaration to be the very height of naivety.

“Don’t look at the tools on the table, that just makes it worse.” The albino continued as if Van hadn’t interrupted him. “Pick a dark corner in the room and stare at it for as long as you can. Lose yourself in it and try to picture yourself anywhere but where you actually are.”

“Where did you picture yourself?” He couldn’t keep himself from asking, then flinched right after the words left his mouth, shocked that he’d dare to ask something to deeply personal.

Rather than yell or grew defensive, Dilandau simply smiled softly, his eyes closing again as if savouring a precious memory.

“At first, I had nowhere to go and no experience beyond my dark cell or the labs so I studied everything around me. Once I earned my name and was allowed into the army, I pictured brilliant battles. The lamps became the burning sun, their knives were enemy swords and my screams were the sounds of enemies dying on my blade. But the most effective were my Slayers. I would picture myself training with them, fighting side by side in battles. They kept me safe and took the pain away. When they died.... I couldn’t see them anymore. There was just this terrible bloody hole in my mind and the knives felt so much sharper than before.” Dilandau shuddered violently and his chains clinked as the youth tried to pull his arms down into a more defensive position. “They didn’t come back no matter how loudly I screamed or how much I begged. “

He drew in a deep shuddering breath and those blood red eyes opened once more, looking through Van as if he didn’t exist. The tortured youth was trapped too deeply in his memories and madness to even be aware of where he was or who he was talking to and the effect was chilling.

“They’ll start by giving you a full exam. You’ll be stripped down, cleaned out and every inch of you will be studied and notated in their files. It’s mostly to make you feel powerless and dehumanize you. Don’t struggle or else it will hurt and there will be enough pain before long, no need to rush it.

“Once they’re satisfied, they’ll begin cutting into you, doing biopsies on your various organs.” Having no idea what that was didn’t do anything to ease Van’s growing anxiety but Dilandau must have noticed his confusion because that blank look on his face shifted subtly to show just the faintest hint of an evil smirk. “They’ll take little pieces of your various organs, tissues and bones.

“It’s an utterly excruciating process of course and they won’t sedate you at all. They claim it alters the information they retrieve from the samples, but I think they just like seeing how much we can endure.” The glimmer of fire flickered out in Dilandau’s eyes as they returned once more to that distant and resigned stare. “Master always praised me if I didn’t scream. He’d tell me how good I’d been, then he’d show me how proud he was.”

Before Van could utter a single word of defiance, Dilandau grunted loudly and shook his head as if trying to clear away a mental fog. Disgust etched itself across his face, twisting lovely features into something cruel and inhuman before returning to his previous beauty. For a moment, those crimson eyes glowed energist red and the chains binding the pale youth clinked ominously as he struggled briefly.

“Don’t let them see your wings.” Those glowing eyes fixed on his and seemed to almost burn their way into his brain with their strange intensity. “They’ll think nothing of cutting them off for study, maiming you forever in the name of their science. No matter how much it hurts or how scared you are, don’t let them take the sky away from you.”

As usual, Van was left off balance by his companion’s mercurial mind and wasn’t sure how to handle being around someone like this for any extended period of time. Previously, he’d always had Gaddes to act as an emotional dampener for the albino. Now it all rested solely on his shoulders.

Some distant part of his mind began to idly wonder if he’d be as mad as the pale captain by the end of all of this. Would he too be a lost and broken thing, lashing out at anyone who came near?

“Why... why are you trying to protect me?” He couldn’t help but ask, studying Dilandau for any clue as to his rival’s motivations. “And don’t tell me it’s so that you can kill me yourself. You’ve had ample opportunity to do that and you haven’t seized it.

The glow faded from those alien eyes, leaving only searing crimson behind to glare at Van accusingly. The two held each others gazes for what felt like an eternity, neither willing to turn away no matter how uncomfortable they became.

“I hate you Van Fanel.” Dilandau stated this fact as if it was some great revelation. Rather than replying with his usual equally obvious rejoinder, Van held his tongue and waited the albino out, fully aware that Dilandau never could resist a rant. As expected, the silent stare down was short lived. “You murdered them. My Dragonslayers. You tore away my protections and left me to face the Madoushi with nothing. You stripped me of everything in my life that made me human then cast me back to those who made me a monster.”

As always, that familiar soul rending wave of guilt rose up around the young king and the sour taste of bile filled the back of his throat as he remembered how it had felt to end those lives, to tear Dilandau’s world apart one life at a time. He should be the one haunted by their screams and tormented by madness, not Dilandau. The blood of those children was on his hands and while they might have been vicious soldiers, they’d been no older than himself. Several had likely been even younger.

Before he could even open his mouth to apologize for his actions, to argue that he’d had no other choice, Dilandau interrupted him.

“Through fate, destiny or sheer dumb luck, you’re all I have left Van Fanel. I know what waits for us when we land and I won’t lie to myself by believing that I’ll survive this a second time... not without my men.” For another long moment, they held each others eyes before Dilandau finally closed his and chuckled softly.

“They were my greatest strength and my greatest weakness all rolled into one.” He murmured, letting his head loll back and rest against the hull wall. “They took a broken, lost creature and made me human. I don’t think they really even realized the impact it had on me. I certainly didn’t, not until they were gone.

“Back when I first met them, I didn’t know any better. I was nothing but a vicious feral thing. The monster they’d wanted me to be. I thought that it was perfectly normal for children to be tortured, to be forced to tear each other apart until only the strongest survived. How was I do know any different? We’d all been raised in perfect isolation from the rest of Zaibach and only after... after I proved that I was utterly theirs in mind body and soul did they allow me the freedom of the army.

“A child of twelve sent out onto the front lines to kill and butcher anyone who crossed my sword. Did you know that in the first battle I led, I’d ordered the field to be saturated with oil? When the enemy closed in for the kill, we set it alight.” He smiled fondly at the memory, savouring the remembered looks on the other officers faces when he’d proposed the vicious tactic. “I stood in the center of the flames laughing as they burned around me. Silly barbarians with their open visor guymelef’s. They cooked inside their armours and screamed while they burned. In one morning I ended a two week long standoff with almost no casualties on our side. It was an unprecedented victory.”

“That’s sick.” Van gasped, utterly aghast at the story, having no doubt at all that it was true. Dilandau simply didn’t care enough to ever lie, not when the truth was so much more terrible. Rather than deny the king’s accusation, the dragonslayer simply chuckled in amusement.

“I was what I was made to be. A killing machine. Merciless, vicious and brilliantly effective. I had no weakness, no compassion or care for anyone around me. It didn’t matter if it was friend or foe, if they got in my way, I’d cut them down. Everyone was my enemy after all and I knew that at anytime I might be called upon to slaughter whomever my Masters pointed me at. At least, that’s how it was before I met them... my Dragonslayers, the Ryuugekitai.”

“It’s a beautiful sounding word for something so terrible.”

“They were beautiful boys and vicious killers. It seemed appropriate don’t you think?” Van really had no argument there. Dilandau was right, they’d been aptly named. “They were all petrified of me at first. Some of them even hated me. I used to listen to them covertly, hearing their true thoughts and it fed into everything I’d been told by my Masters. You couldn’t trust anyone, to show weakness was to die and that only fear kept those beneath us in line. But... the longer we trained together and the more I listened, the more I learned that there was something wrong with my life. I saw something in them, the way they interacted, they way they all began to look up to me and the way they stood up for each other, protecting each other...”

 

_He’d been furious with Dallet after a failed attack simulation in their guymelefs one day. They’d had the machines for a week and the young captain couldn’t grasp the concept that some of them weren’t catching onto the convoluted control systems as quickly as he had._

_They’d been standing next to the broken wreck of his slayer’s downed unit, staring at the now useless slag and all he’d felt was burning rage inside him. His men had failed! Men he’d chosen to fight for him! The very idea of incompetence was infuriating, but to have to report back to the Strategos that he’d lost a unit... on a simulated attack no less! It was galling!_

_None of the dragonslayers had expected it when he’d drawn his blade and advanced on the kneeling form of Dallet. They’d thought that he was bluffing, just trying to scare a lesson into them. Even Dallet had knelt there with his head bowed deeply in apology, terrified of the discipline he knew he was about to endure._

_The blade had cut through the air with a whistle, his aim was true and the brunet was less than an inch from losing his head when there was a sharp jolt of impact. Sparks flashed for a moment as steel met steel and Dilandau glared into the grey eyes of Gatti._ _The dragonslayer had drawn his sword at the last moment to block the blow, saving the other boy’s life._

_The ash blonde was shaking in panic, barely aware of what he’d done and realizing that in drawing steel against his superior, his own life was forfeit. Rather than dropping his weapon and begging for mercy, he instead held his stance, keeping the killing stroke at bay, his eyes both pleading and defiant all at once._

_For a moment, Dilandau had a flash of another time, another place where a beautiful boy with hair red as fire and eyes the colour of freshly minted gold had stared at him over_ _similarely_ _crossed blades. He’d had the same look on his face, the knowledge that he’d doomed himself, but refusing to step back._

_Screams had echoed through his mind as he’d stared into those grey eyes, seeing gold in their depths._

_“Step aside soldier.” He’d hissed softly, his voice heavy with warning. Gatti was trembling violently, he could feel it through the swords, but the boy refused to back down._

_“It was an accident sir. He’ll do better, you just have to give him a chance to learn sir.” The dragonslayer pressed, begging with his eyes for mercy. Dilandau hadn’t understood why Gatti was begging for the life of another. The two were close rivals after all and eliminating Dallet would heighten the other’s chance to rise in rank, if anything, he should be quietly encouraging it._

_Again, he saw that other boy, his features blurred save for those defiant eyes shining with love and dread in equal measure as he stood protectively over a body huddled on the ground._

_“I will not tolerate weakness or incompetence in my ranks.”_

_“_ _Nor should you sir.” Gatti had agreed quickly and as he spoke,_ _something about his voice, his defiance tweaked a memory long ago buried in his past. Another turning point, another harsh choice which had changed everything in its wake. The memory faded before it could fully surface, leaving Dilandau even more confused than before. Unaware of his leader’s distress, Gati continued to plead for the life of his friend._ _“But if you kill us whenever a mistake is made, we’ll all be dead before the month is out. Let us learn from our mistakes and grow stronger. Let us support each other. We’ll work extra hours in the simulators to get Dallet up to snuff. Anything you want. Just give him a chance to improve.”_

_This was nothing like he’d ever seen. Willing to risk a life for another? Inconveniencing yourself to aid an inferior?_ _It made no sense at all!_

_He’d taken a moment to look at the faces of the others who knelt at his feet, noting how they trembled in fear over the confrontation. Though none other than Gatti dared to raise their heads, he could see that the ground was damp beneath the faces of several. Tears? They would weep for another?_

_Confused, he took a step back and stared down at the defiant dragonslayer and the one he’d saved, convinced that there was something pivotal to be learned here,_ _something he’d failed to learn before._ _He had no idea what it was, but there was no doubt in his mind that if he took the head of the failure, he’d never understand and something vital would be lost._

_“You would die for him?” He asked Gatti softly, his voice still low and dangerous. The blonde slayer winced slightly at his words, but continued to hold his ground._

_“If I die for him I have no doubt that you’d still take his head and then be short two men. I’d rather live for him, and have him live by my side. Only the living learn and grow. Only the living may serve you Lord Dilandau.”_

_There was no defiance in his voice or posture and the young captain knew that if he chose to claim both their lives, neither would prevent it. Gatti was right though. Then he’d be out two men and while the others would no doubt be more motivated to seek perfection at all costs he knew that they would never fully reach his own heights. In the end, they’d die, one by one._

_Instead, he could stay his blade now and try this new tactic being proposed. It seemed acceptable, after all, he could always kill them later if they failed to meet his exacting standards._

_“You’re brave and bold. I like that you’re not afraid to speak your mind and it’s interesting that you’d take this risk for a teammate. Get up both of you. Gatti, you’re my new second in command.”_

_Both boys had been so overcome with shock that they’d barely remembered to scramble to their feet, each one spouting out an endless and annoying stream of apologies. They were quickly silenced though when the instant they straightened up, both were knocked back to the ground again by two solid punches to the face, nearly breaking both their jaws._

_“Dallet, you will be training with me personally for the next week and if you’re not up to the level I feel you should be I’ll make you wish I’d taken your head.” He growled dangerously. “Gatti, that’s for drawing your blade on me. Now get up both of you, I want you up in the air and working on your drills in thirty seconds. Dallet, you’re going to watch and explain to me each and every one of their manoeuvres. For every mistake, you’re getting another week cleaning the toilets.” As his men scrambled to their machines and began to power them up, Dilandau could almost see golden eyes shining at him from the depths of his mind._ _They looked proud._

 

“Yeah... I’ve seen how protective they can get.” Van grumbled, glancing around nervously and noting once again that he couldn’t feel that strange prickling chill which always seemed to precede the spectral soldiers. “Speaking of... shouldn’t they have you know... fought for you or something? I mean, they can’t be wanting you to go back to those monsters.”

Now it was Dilandau’s turn to look uncomfortable and glance around the room as he fidgeted in his chains.

“I... I don’t know.” He murmured softly, almost to himself. “They haven’t spoken to me since I sprouted wings.” The dragonslayer felt a brief moment of panic at the thought that upon realizing his demonic heritage, they too had abandoned him. Or, maybe it was because he wore Van’s feather around his neck, proclaiming his alliance with their murderer. Either was possible... after all, hadn’t Allen and Gaddes both pushed him away? Hadn’t he seen the disgust in the eyes of two men who’d proclaimed their love for him? Vows of loyalty were for humans, not things like him. Maybe his Master... no... call him Shroden dammit! Maybe Shroden was right and he’d always be alone, that he’d never know true belonging outside of the man’s foul embrace. Sweet fate what a disgusting thought.

“They wouldn’t desert me.” He stated, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than Van. Judging by the look on the fanelian king’s face, he’d heard that too. “They wouldn’t!” He reiterated though inwardly he cursed himself for sounding desperate. At least Van looked away and didn’t press the issue.

They sat there in silence for several long minutes, each one doing their best to ignore the growing stench from Van’s vomit and the uncomfortable awareness that there were no facilities available to relieve themselves. They’d both had a lot of alcohol last night and it really needed to go somewhere soon.

“I really wish you could call up that damn pillar.” Van finally broke the silence, nearly causing Dilandau to jump at the sudden sound. Doing his best to make the sudden jerk look natural, he glared over at the king and desperately wished he could kill with the power of his annoyance.

“I told you I couldn’t do it, and talking about it isn’t going to change anything.” And here he’d thought that he was the insane one. Clearly he’d been mistaken.

“Well we need to work out an escape plan of some sort.” The king argued. “It’s not like Allen is going to suddenly drop out of the sky and save us, so we have to come up with something ourselves.”

“Schezar does have a rather annoying habit of doing that. I mean seriously, does he have himself catapulted into every damn battle?” Dilandau began to snicker softly to himself, causing Van to glare daggers at him. “Sorry, just picturing that. It’s been a long day.”

“If you’re not going to help me then shut up and let me think of something.”

“Fine, I bow to your superior expertise in this situation since out of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s never been captured repeatedly by my enemies. Got any other brothers hiding out behind enemy lines who can let us go?” That managed to draw a slight smirk from Van despite his efforts to be offended. It just figured that the only time Dilandau would admit to Van’s winning of anything would be in losing.

“You’re the closest thing to a brother that I have left.”

“We’re so fucked.”

“Really? Tell me more oh brilliant strategos, because I thought that everything was going perfectly well until now.” Van snapped heatedly. Between the headache, the stench of vomit and his ever growing need to urinate, being tortured wasn’t looking half bad right about now. “You keep going on about being some perfect soldier and superior being, so stop complaining like a spoiled astorian noble and start helping me. You know what’s at stake better than I do after all.”

That seemed to get the albino’s attention because he blinked a few times in mild surprise at the king’s harsh words before taking a deep centering breath and glancing around the room once again.

“Alright.” He said after a moment of thoughtful silence. “What are our assets?”

“Our assets!? We’re in chains! We have nothing!”

“Don’t be obtuse.” Dilandau snapped back, his tone lacking it’s usual bite. “We have our feathers, so there’s some light. We have the wire wrapped around them... if I could get them into my hands, I might be able to try picking the lock on the manacles.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t pick locks?”

“I said that I sucked at it, not that it was impossible.. Right now a small chance is better than nothing, now shut up, I’m thinking.” Van opened his mouth to retort but then closed it after a moment. At least Dilandau was contributing towards their escape, he could hardly start berating him for doing exactly what he’d been asked to do. Still, the least he could do was attempt to be halfway decent company. Their lives depended on each other working together. “We have the moon bitch’s pendant... nice jewellery by the way. It’s very feminine.”

“Like you’re one to talk. Your tiara was very manly.”

“Fuck you, it was a diadem. There’s a difference.”

“There really isn’t you know.”

“Are you seriously wanting to argue about jewellery right now? Because I thought you wanted to escape.”

“Fine fine, I’m shutting up.” Van rolled his eyes, still firmly believing that he was right. “Though really I’m surprised that you’re not suggesting trying to seduce the guard or something like that.” That earned him a rather dangerously arched eyebrow aimed in his direction.

“And what are you trying to imply Van?” Van bit his lip, realizing that suggesting that the captain had the attitude of an alley cat in heat likely wouldn’t accomplish anything except start another argument.

“You wanted me to list our assets right?” He quickly ventured. “As much as it repulses me to admit it, your appearance could work in our favour.” The flattery, as backhanded as it was seemed to work and the dragonslayer appeared to be mollified by his words.

“Too bad it wouldn’t work. After my last attack on them, none of them would trust me not to bite off something important and you stink enough to make my eyes water, so that’s out as well.”

Van nodded his head in agreement before pausing, realizing that Dilandau had just included him in the seducing the guards scenario. It was insulting and degrading to suggest that he, a King would try to draw people in like some second rate slattern! Still, at this point, it really wasn’t worth arguing seeing as how it wasn’t an option worthy of consideration, no matter how dire their situation became.

“So, we’re back to your pretty necklace. Does it do anything other than let you speak to the moon bitch?”

“Would you stop calling her that? She has a name.”

“Focus Van. We’re talking about the necklace, not your girlfriend.” Dilandau couldn’t quite resist a cruel grin. “I mean Schezar’s girlfriend. My bad.” Gods of Gaea, he really was an ass. Still, Van couldn’t allow himself to be dragged into another argument with the dragonslayer. They only had a limited window to escape and he could feel it closing a little more every minute they wasted.

“The necklace glows whenever you get upset.” He stated after a few deep and calming breaths. “The same as Escaflowne’s energist.” Both of their eyes looked down at the small unobtrusive lump beneath Van’s shirt, hidden beneath the softly glowing feather. “Could you maybe tap into it’s power or something?”

“Tap into it’s power?” Dilandau looked at the fanlian king blankly, not quite understanding what he was being asked to do. “I don’t see any plugs or cables...” Now it was Van’s turn to be confused, but he was quickly growing used to that state when dealing with his strange rival. Obviously what he’d said had a different meaning in Zaibach or something.

“Hitomi did it all the time.” He clarified. “You hold it in your hands and focus on the power inside it, opening yourself to it.”

“Yeah... about that idea...” Dilandau gave his fingers a little wiggle, emphasizing how they were both currently bound up and unable to reach the stone. “Can’t you just summon the damn bitch? Or call to her or something? She could pass on a message to the others at the very least. Fate knows, she seems bound and determined to be useless otherwise.”

“Why don’t you call to your damn boyfriends and get them to lend a hand or fifteen? Or are they only good for giving you spectral hand jobs?” Van shot back, forgetting himself for a moment and losing control over his already strained temper.

A snarl of pure unadulterated rage twisted it’s way across the dragonslayer’s features and for a moment, he was pretty sure that Dilandau was going to try to hit him despite the chains. Then, the offended glare shattered and the albino threw his head back and laughed. It wasn’t a happy sort of laugh, more of a bone jarring few moments away from full on meltdown sort of sound that immediately set Van on edge, bringing up far too many horrible memories. Try as he might, it was impossible not to try to cringe away from the madman. Unfortunately, his movement was rather limited due to his own chains holding him in place.

The broken laughter grew louder and louder and Van could actually see the shine of tears edging Dilandau’s pale lashes. It was about now that Van realized that he really shouldn’t have pushed the Dragonslayer button. He knew it was a sore spot with the young captain but he hadn’t expected such an extreme reaction. Perhaps his initial reaction had been correct and Dilandau’s already tenuous grasp on his sanity was even weaker than previously thought. Worse still, not only was Gaddes not present to calm down his pet psychopath, but Van was trapped and chained in a small room with the madman. To make it worse, his already pounding headache was growing worse the shriller his laughter became.

“Shut up you damn hyena!” A loud and irritated voice boomed from outside the door. The order was accompanied by several heavy thumps as someone pounded on the solid metal. “If I have to go in there and beat the shit out of you a second time, I’ll be make sure your damn jaw is broken!”

“You and what army you coward!” Dilandau snapped back without missing a beat. His eyes practically burned as he glared at the door with a strange hunger in their depths. “Pathetic scum like you haven’t got the balls to even look me in the damn eye! Get your lazy ass in here so I can tear your throat out!”

“Er... Dilandau... maybe you shouldn’t egg him on...” Van hazarded but quickly fell silent when those wild mad eyes focused on him. Belatedly he remembered the other teens death wish, likely blown all out of proportion given their current situation. There was no doubt in his mind that Dilandau would do everything he could to infuriate the guards, hoping that one of them would go too far and end his life. Whether it was to avoid their upcoming fate, or simply a mental breakdown over being held prisoner, the result would be the same. Worse, he’d likely pull Van down into death with him.

As expected, and dreaded, their captor seemed unable to let the insult slide and the door to their cell opened up with a horrific squeal of rusty metal hinges. The sound was almost blinding to Van’s poor abused skull and he cringed away, missing the entrance of the large and lanky figure who strode confidently into their small cell. The sudden influx of light from the hallways was enough to quickly mute the glow of their feathers, not that either youth noticed as they were struggling to keep from being blinded.

Still turned away and blinking aching eyes, he didn’t see the blow that silenced Dilandau, but he certainly heard the heavy crack of a fist colliding with a skull. Followed immediately by an almost inhuman roar and the sound of chains being strained against, he could easily fill in the blanks. The newcomer laughed cruelly as Dilandau spat out what sounded like a combination of threats, insults and animalistic shrieks of pure mindless rage. Yeah, this wasn’t a best case scenario and it was likely about to rapidly go downhill if experience had taught him anything.

Blinking his eyes, he turned his head enough to see the man standing over Dilandau, a wide petty grin spread across a face that might once have been handsome were it not for a vicious looking brand which destroyed the skin on the right side of his face. As a result, his tanned cheek was horribly burned and twisted, leaving his eye with a permanent droop and pulling the edge of his mouth up into a permanent sneer.

The terrible scars roughly formed a word, though it was hard to read through watering eyes. _Outcast._ While he’d never seen one previously, Van knew that it was the mark of a man convicted of murder in Freid. Typically they were branded then exiled from civilization, sent out into the jungles to live like the animals they were. Clearly, this one had survived the ordeal and the king was willing to bet that it hadn’t done much for his personality.

“Listen you little freak.” A large hand snapped out, grabbing onto those snowy white locks and forcing the young captain to hold still. Another sharp cuff across the face silenced Dilandau for a moment as it no doubt turned the other boys headache into skull shattering agony. “We gotta deliver you in one piece, so I’m not gonna carve up your pretty face the way I really desperately want to.” He grinned and licked his lips in an almost obscene fashion, making Van decide that being branded and outcast likely wasn’t anywhere near what the man had actually deserved. “But that don’t mean we gotta make your trip comfortable.”

Most people would have taken the hint and shut up in order to spare themselves some pain, but no, not Dilandau. A this point, Van wasn’t even surprised when the dragonslayer boldly spit into the man’s face, catching him right in his undamaged eye.

“You think you scare me you pathetic waste of flesh?” Dilandau hissed at him, his eyes burning like twin pits of hatred. “You’re nothing but some useless little bottom feeder!”

Van could only watch as Brand struck the youth across the face a second time then drew his hand back and drove it hard into the dragonslayers gut. The blow drove the air out of Dilandau’s lungs, leaving his gasping loudly for breath through blood flecked lips, but the fire in those crimson eyes hadn’t been dulled in the slightest. If anything, they seemed to burn even brighter as he struggled to form more words to incite the man to even greater violence.

Taking a moment to wipe the spittle from his cheek, Brand grinned down at them both, his sneering lips distorting his features to make him seem like some twisted caricature of evil intent.

Rough hands grabbed onto Dilandau’s jaw, fingers pressing into the deep bruises as he squeezed tender flesh.

“You’re so lucky that your Masters want you in one piece.” He snarled softly, the threat hanging heavily in the air between them. “Because I want to peel the skin off your pretty face and feed it to you piece by piece you little self righteous piece of shit.” Those hands grew even tighter and Van could almost hear the bones of Dilandau’s jaw creaking in warning. “But by all means, keep it up. There’s more than one way to make you suffer, and believe me, I’ll be all too happy to introduce you to them all.” Grinning widely, the branded man reached over Dilandau’s head with his free hand and deftly tightened the chains several notches, forcing the dragonslayer to stretch his limbs to the limit, the majority of his weight hanging by his wrists.

Roughly releasing the albino, Brand then moved over to Van and repeated the process. The cuffs bit sharply into the king’s tender wrists as he was lifted slightly off the ground and no longer sitting properly. Immediately, his arms began to ache in protest and a few experimental tugs on his wrist and ankle bindings proved that there would be no give at all. Any struggling now would result in his wrists getting sliced up and he was getting the impression that medical aid wouldn’t be quickly forthcoming.

“This ain’t the fastest airship around, so you’ve got about a week before we land.” The man continued, amused with watching Van squirm. Dilandau on the other hand remained still, continuing to glare utter death at their captor, daring him to come closer. “You seem to be pretty energetic, so we won’t bother feeding either of you today, but here’s some water.” He pulled a canteen off of his belt and upended the contents over them both. “Lick it off if you get thirsty because that’s all you’re getting today. If you both behave, maybe tomorrow we won’t piss in it.”

He seemed to find this idea hilarious and laughed uproariously as he turned to leave the cell, favouring Dilandau with a sharp kick to the legs before slamming the door shut and leaving them in the darkness once more. Almost immediately, their feathers began to glow softly, but after the brilliant light of the hallway, it was meagre, though comforting. Closing his eyes, he once again cursed his rival for somehow managing to find a way to make their doomed situation that much worse.

Until this moment, he’d never really thought that maybe the Draconians really were a cursed race. Dilandau certainly seemed to epitomize the concept of walking bad luck. Wherever he went, situations quickly became intolerable. He was a walking plague of bad luck on everyone around him and didn’t seem to care one way or another about the consequences. He was willing to bet half his kingdom that right now, the dragonslayer was working out how to attack the guard when he came back rather than thinking about how this new level of discomfort was all his fault. The instant they got out of these damn restraints, he was going to strangle the pale bastard! Truce or no truce!

For several long moments, all Van could do was listen to the heavy guttural breathing of an enraged Dilandau, and the soft drip of water falling onto the floor. Unable to help himself, he sniffed cautiously at the water dripping maddeningly off of his hair and shoulders, trying to detect any trace of the aforementioned urine. Though he desperately wanted to simply ignore it, brushing it off as just another disgusting trial he had to endure, the mere presence of water seemed to have awoken something in his body, reminding him of how horribly dehydrated he was. It didn’t matter whether it was because of the alcohol, the poison or the beating he’d endured during his capture. His body was demanding water with enough force that even the threat of....unpleasant additives didn’t seem to slow him down.

“So... that didn’t go well.” He finally hazarded after a prolonged period of sniffing in which his nose detected nothing worse than slightly stale smelling water and his own sweat. Granted, the ever-present stench of his vomit did make his sense of smell rather questionable at the moment. Tentatively, he sucked on a few locks of hair but it did little more than heighten his thirst. Ugh, his tongue felt like leather in his mouth... old and much abused leather. “On the plus side, I’m pretty sure he was bluffing about the water.”

Rather than replying, Dilandau snarled angrily and continued to struggle against his chains. There was fresh blood coating his wrists below the metal, staining the bandages on the one arm, but the other teen showed no awareness of the pain he was likely in. There was no doubt in Van’s mind that if Dilandau could gnaw an arm off to get free, he would without a moment’s hesitation.

“You should calm down, all you’re going to do is make yourself thirsty and I doubt that guy was bluffing about not giving us water until tomorrow.”

“Do I look like I give a rats ass?” Dilandau snapped back at him, eyes still smouldering. Inwardly, Van gave a little sigh as he recognized the fanatical rage shining through them. He waved a silent goodbye to rational Dilandau and waited to see what oh so fun things crazy Dilandau was going to bring to the table. “Dammit, I knew I should have taken Dallet up on that offer to teach me how to dislocate my thumbs.” He gave his wrists another brutal tug and twist, causing Van to wince at the damage he was no doubt causing. “Always thought the bastard was just wanting for a chance to get even for something and didn’t want to risk being crippled. DAMMIT!” He all but screeched the last word, causing Van to glance nervously at the door. The last thing he wanted was for the guard to come in again to silence them. It would no doubt be even less pleasant than the first visit.

“Just calm down.” Van repeated in his calmest voice, doing his best to head off Dilandau’s growing hysteria. “We can think of a way out of this, but only if we keep our heads clear.” It was like he was channelling Allen or something which was more than a little disconcerting. Granted, there were far worse people to emulate and right now they needed the man’s cool head for strategy.

Rather than agreeing, Dilandau tugged harder at his restraints, making Van worry that he might actually do permanent damage to himself if left to continue. His breath was already ragged and his eyes were wild. Blood ran freely down both his arms and the sound of the rattling chains was still acutely unpleasant.

“Calm down before you hurt yourself!” He tried to put as much authority in his voice was possible, hoping to cut through the wall of panic but it didn’t seem to be helping overly much. “All you’re going to do is piss off those guards even more and next time they’ll probably do worse than make us uncomfortable.”

“I can’t go back there... I can’t. Not again...” Dilandau looked even paler than before, something Van hadn’t even thought possible. For a moment, Van thought he saw a flicker of blue in the depths of his eyes but Dilandau git his teeth in a feral snarl and drove his head backwards, smashing it into the metal wall behind them. The force of the impact could be felt through the wall and there was no doubt that it hadn’t been an accidental strike. Another skull shattering impact reverberated through him as Dilandau’s head collided once again with the unyielding wall. The blue flicker in his eyes was muted and guttering, warning that Celena had likely been weakened by the drugs in their system, something Dilandau seemed quick to take advantage of.

On the third impact, the door opened again and this time two men came rushing in. Both were cursing loudly as Brand once again grabbed a fist full of Dilandau’s hair, preventing him from causing further damage to himself. The boy howled like a trapped animal, his teeth snapping viciously at the restraining hands and one of the men yelled out in pain as they found their mark.

Van desperately wanted to yell at them to let him go, but really, they were the only thing keeping him from bashing his skull in. Even as they struggled to hold the dragonslayer still, the king could see blood matting the back of Dilandau’s silvery hair and knew that their captors had likely saved his life. Still, that didn’t stop the king from wanting to join in the fight. Unfortunately, his restraints held him still, allowing him to do little more than glare at the intruders balefully as they struggled with the madman.

“Get in here Pinez!” Brand yelled at the door where a third man was hurriedly pouring something into a canteen and giving it several hard shakes.

“Give me a second! This shit needs to dissolve!”

“Break his fucking jaw! He’s got my damn arm!” A hand rose up, muscles tense as the man in question prepared to do the job himself. Brand beat him to it, but instead of hitting Dilandau, he struck his companion hard enough to send the brigand to the floor where he clutched at a large bloody hole in his arm. Van could only see the wound for a moment, but it looked like he was missing a rather large chunk of flesh. This was further confirmed when Dilandau spit out the bloody hunk of meat into Band’s face. Furious, the murderer grabbed onto Dilandau’s throat with his free hand, squeezing tightly as the dragonslayer snapped at him viciously and bared bloody teeth.

“Dammit Pinez! Give him the shit or I’m going to kill him! Those bastards can find a way to make do with just one of the freaks!” The bitten man yelled out. His panic might have been amusing if it hadn’t been for the way Dilandau’s eyes were rolling back in their sockets even as he struggled and strained to tear into his enemy like a rabid wolf. More distressingly, the chains were making rather ominous creaking sounds, as if they might actually give way. Van didn’t want to even think about the insane amount of strength needed to accomplish this but he had no doubt that in a few more seconds, he’d see it actually happen.

There was a spot of warmth on his chest and a faint glow beneath his shirt, warning that somehow, Dilandau was once again tapping into the power of his pendant. There was an answering glow in those maddened eyes as slender muscles continued to strain with impossible strength against metal chains. Though their captors seemed to be oblivious to it, Van could feel the crackle of energy in the air as power built up around them, seeking a focus. Who knew what sort of damage would be unleashed when it was finally released?

By now, even Van was yelling inarticulately and struggling against his own restraints, trying desperately to calm the situation down, fully aware that he was failing miserably. All he was doing now was adding to the chaos.

The third person shoved their way into the room, practically kicking aside his wounded comrade, canteen held at the ready. At his approach, the branded goon forced Dilandau’s head back viciously, releasing his throat long enough to jam a sheathed knife between those snapping teeth and pressing down, forcing his jaws to remain open. Wasting no time, the concoction was poured down the albino’s throat and a hand was clamped over his mouth while another pinched his nose viciously shut, forcing Dilandau to swallow whether he wanted to or not.

“Swallow it you little shit or so help me we’ll choke you out!” The newcomer hissed angrily, looking more than willing to take the risk of killing their prisoner. Defiant crimson eyes met his, daring them to try, welcoming it.

The struggle continued for nearly a minute before crimson eyes began to roll back in their sockets, growing unfocused as the young captain’s consciousness began to fade.

Van was almost convinced that Dilandau would actually let himself pass out from lack of oxygen before swallowing, just to be obstinate, but then he saw that pale slender throat twitch as instinct overrode desire. Another swallow emptied the contents of his mouth and their captors gave him another rough shake just to make sure everything had gone down before releasing his face.

Barely conscious, Dilandau gasped loudly for air, struggling to fill his lungs, but another mouthful of drugged water was poured into his mouth and the process was repeated. This time, Dilandau barely fought them, swallowing in mere seconds. The goon with the canteen stepped back, smiling smugly while the branded bastard continued to dig his fingers into Dilandau’s scalp, refusing to release him until the drugs began their work.

“You going to give us any trouble Your Majesty?” Canteen asked him, a clear note of warning in his voice. Much as how Dilandau had done days earlier, the man managed to make his title sound more like an insult than one would have thought possible, but this time, Van didn’t rise to it. Instead he simply shook his head.

“You know he’s going to kill you for that.” He stated calmly, unable to completely hold his tongue. “Take it from me, he’ll hunt you down across the face of Gaea and tear you apart for this.” Was it bad that he was actually sort of looking forward to these men having a psychotic fire wielding bloodhound on their trail?

These men had either never heard of Zaibach’s prized warlord, or were more than a little insane themselves because none of them looked overly concerned with this prospect. Brand even laughed a little, giving that silvery head another rough shake. This time, Dilandau barely responded, his crimson glare was fading, rapidly growing unfocused as his eyelids drooped.

“If I were you, I’d be more concerned with surviving than any ideas of revenge.” Canteen sneered at him, making Van wish that he could reach out and strangle the smug bastard. Even biting him felt like a perfectly viable option right about now. Of course, if he did that then he’d likely end up drugged just like Dilandau and one of them at least had to keep their wits about them. Damn that impulsive bastard. Van was going to have a hard enough time keeping his own skin intact. He couldn’t afford to take care of Dilandau as well.

Speaking of, the volatile teenager was now slumped in his chains blinking blearily into space, barely aware of what was going on around him. Brand snapped his fingers in front of the albino’s face and received no reaction. The two guards glanced at each other, exchanging smug looks before releasing his hair. Dilandau’s head flopped down, his neck unable to hold it up in a proper position.

“Some menace.” Canteen sneered before punching Dilandau in the face, right where brand had struck him not long before. The albino was going to be unrecognizable at this rate. “That’s for biting Briggs. Fucking savage.” He spit a large glob of phlegm at the barely conscious form before turning on his heel and walking out. Brand moved to follow but paused just long enough to give Van a truly menacing grin.

“You’d better make sure he keeps breathing.” The man chuckled ominously. “If he dies, we’ll have no use for you aside from spare parts.” It wasn’t so much the words as the intent behind them that froze Van’s blood in his veins. These men wanted them to fight, wanted an excuse to hurt them. How were there so many sick people on Gaea? How had they resisted the power of Van and Hitomi’s wish for peace? Had something gone wrong with Dornkirks device? Or were these people perhaps so twisted inside that not even Zaibach’s fate alteration was able to sway their hearts?

Closing his eyes, he turned away, not wanting the bastard to enjoy even a moment of his weakness. His earlier nausea returned as he clenched his jaw, determined not to throw up again but it was harder than it sounded as he realized that all of their efforts during the war had been in vain. All they’d really accomplished was replacing one evil with another.

The madness would continue unabated and those poor children would never be avenged. Already he could see them behind his eyes, the images of countless children, their bodies twisted and butchered beyond recognition. So many innocents destroyed, so much pain created in the name of science... and now he was going to number among them.

When he finally dared to open his eyes once again, he and Dilandau were alone in the cell. The pale boy continued to stare blankly into nothingness, appearing to be dead to the world, but Van could still see the minute trembling of his body and the slightest movement of his lips as he silently mouthed the words “no” over and over again. He was trapped in his own personal hell, and soon enough, Van would be joining him. It was a horrifying prospect and he prayed that somehow, through some twist of fate, Allen, Hitomi, and the others would still manage to swoop in and save them all.

 

“So, I have to say that as otherworldly protectors, you guys sort of suck at this.” Van grumbled to the empty air, addressing Dilandau’s ghostly minions though hardly expecting a reply. He’d lost track of how long he’d been in the cell, breathing in the stink of his vomit and listening to the soft near mindless murmuring of Dilandau. The sour stink of piss had joined the wonderful melange of odours once it had become clear that their captors had no intention of acknowledging even the simplest of body functions. Granted, seeing as how their hands and feet were tied, Van would rather this than any of those goons handling his bits in order for nature to take it’s course. His pants were already a lost cause. What were a few more stains in the grand scheme of things?

The other boy had been chanting the names of his fallen slayers softly, his voice slurring over the sounds, rendering the names almost unintelligible. Still, each name made Van wince slightly as he couldn’t help but recall hearing the screams echoing out of the enemy guymelefs as his sword had torn into them. He’d seen the brilliant crimson sprays of blood fill the air moments before being consumed by blue flames. Each life Dilandau mourned was a life he’d taken from this world and whether their ghosts were currently present or not, they still haunted the two teenagers relentlessly.

Occasionally, the pale teen would break off his mantra and descend into a fitful half-sleep that left him moaning in terror and twisting against phantoms which only existed in his mind. It was rather hard on his nerves to listen to it all but he’d given up trying to rouse the other boy. All he could do was hope that the dragonslayer didn’t make enough noise to bring their captors back. Whatever they’d given him was strong enough that not even Dilandau’s will of iron could claw his way out of the drug induced delirium.

Still, there was still some sort of awareness burning inside the albino because when their captors barged in hours... days possibly after their last encounter, Dilandau still managed to rouse himself enough to snarl at them like a feral animal. Sharp white teeth snapped together in warning as his wild and unfocused eyes struggled to stay fixed on them.

“We are not getting paid enough to deal with this level of crazy.” Canteen grumbled more to himself than anyone as he took a step closer towards them, earning a deranged yowl from Dilandau as he lunged forward, a thin line of drool dribbling past his lips as he bared his teeth.

“Well I ain’t dealing with him like that and the others won’t go anywhere near him after he took that chunk out of Lemie. I still say that we should just knock them out and take our chances.” Brand offered as he chuckled heartlessly in the doorway, his rough hands idly stroking a mace which hung from his belt. “It’s easier than drugging the little bastard.”

Van couldn’t help but stare, noticing the many notches and dents in the metal. This weapon had seen a lot of use, and likely had claimed many lives in the hands of that sadist. There was no doubt that if he had his way, Dilandau would be a broken and shattered thing by the time they arrived in Basram.

What was worse was that Canteen seemed to actually be considering the offer. His brown eyes glanced from Dilandau to Brand, weighing the risk to them versus the risk to the prisoner and Van really didn’t like how one seemed to be outweighing the other.

Leaning forward, Van locked eyes with Canteen, drawing up every ounce of royal authority he’d had bred into him, determined to be listened to.

“I’ll do it.” His voice sounded steady and sincere, carrying over the garbled threats now spewing out of Dilandau’s mouth.

Both brigands paused and looked at him, neither able to conceal their surprise over his offer. Canteen was the first to recover and he flashed the young king an openly suspicious glare.

“He won’t attack me.” Van continued, hoping that what he was saying was true. After all, he’d gone several hours now without a Dilandau induced attempt on his life. It was about time he pushed his luck a little. “I’ll feed him and give him the damn drugs. It will keep him calm and you guys won’t be missing anymore body parts.”

“You think we’re stupid?” Brand spat out from the doorway. “You’ll run the instant you get a chance.”

“Run where?” Van countered coolly, hoping that neither of these men knew of his interesting heritage. “We’re in an airship aren’t we?” The two men glanced at each other, clearly weighing their options. Neither were overly interested in approaching the feral teenager, but they also weren’t about to shirk their duties. They may be goons, but they certainly weren’t incompetent ones. “Keep my feet chained if you want, just loosen the ones on my arms enough to be able to feed him.” Still they hesitated, searching for a trick behind his offer.

“Look.” He pressed on relentlessly. “If he doesn’t arrive in decent health, you guys will be in trouble right? Well, he needs to eat and drink, even if it’s that drugged garbage. I’m offering to do that for you. If worst comes to worst and I get bit, it’s not like you guys suffer at all right?” Honestly, he really wished that he did have some sort of brilliant escape plan. Sure, he could possibly try to free himself and fly away, but as Dilandau had noted earlier, he likely wouldn’t be able to carry a second person for long and Dilandau was in no shape to fly under his own power.

No matter how annoying and trying he found the albino youth to be, he still couldn’t find it within his heart to leave the teen to face his fate alone. A few days ago he might have thought nothing of abandoning his rival, but now the very idea made his stomach churn. Dilandau had become more than just a symbol of all that was wrong in war. He’d become a person with hopes, dreams and fears; things Van couldn’t forget that no matter how hard he tried. At the very least, he owed the guy for his aid in rescuing Merle and himself from that bastard Mantress.

Canteen finally nodded his head and stepped forward, giving the albino a wide berth as he released Van’s chains from the wall, allowing him to drop his arms and if he was careful, reach over and touch Dilandau.

“You try anything Your Majesty and I’ll let Deacon here carve up your pretty little face.” He hissed softly as Brand pulled out a knife and licked the length of the blade. Van struggled to keep his disgust from showing though appeared to have failed judging by the twin chuckles he received. Fine, whatever, it’s not like either of them thought he liked them after all. So long as he could do something to deescalate the situation that was all he cared about.

Just being able to lower his arms was heavenly, at least for the first few seconds before the cramps hit him. Agony flared all along his muscles as they practically shrieked at him and he was rather positive that they were in the process of tearing themselves off of his bones even as he carefully rubbed them.

Showing an utterly unsurprising lack of patience, Canteen held out the drugged jug of water towards Van, a challenging light in his eyes.

“Get him to drink that peacefully and we’ll consider feeding you both. If he keeps causing trouble, then neither of you eat. I’m not risking anymore of my crew over that freak.” He growled. Nodding his head, Van took the canteen and then waited for the man to back off so that Dilandau would calm down at least a little.

Even though Canteen stepped back into the doorway, Dilandau continued to snarl at them and strain against his bonds, making Van more than a little nervous about approaching him. Restraint wasn’t exactly one of the Dragonslayer’s strong suits, and in this state, he might not remember that they had a truce going. Still, he’d come this far, he couldn’t give up now.

“If he can’t see you guys, he might calm down.” Van glanced over at their captors and received cold glares for his efforts. Yeah, he didn’t think that was going to work. They’d already escaped custody twice now, these guys weren’t risking a third time.

“Just do it before I get sick of his yowling and find more entertaining ways to shut him up.” Brand sneered, still playing with the blade of his knife.

Sighing softly to himself and uttering a quick prayer to any god of Gaea who might be listening, Van reached out a tentative hand towards Dilandau and gently placed it on his shoulder. Those crimson eyes had been so fixated on their enemies that he hadn’t even been aware of Van’s movements until contact had been made

“Dilandau?” He kept his voice gentle and calm, treating the other boy the way he would an injured wild animal. The slight brush of his fingertips against that smooth pale skin was gentle but the other teen spun around as if burned, snapping in Van’s direction, forcing him to snatch his hand back quickly.

The two bastards at the door laughed uproariously as Van narrowly escaped losing the tips of his fingers, but rather than back off, Van simply hummed softly. It was the same nameless song he’d sung earlier as he’d held a panicking Dilandau in his arms and he hoped that the crazed teenager made the connection that the song meant comfort.

“Is he singing?”

“Great, they’re both crazy.”

“Ain’t no one gonna believe this shit.” The two men snickered with each other as Van slowly tried reaching out again. He continued humming even as he moved, keeping every shift in weight slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on Dilandau’s. Beneath the drug fuelled haze, he could see the panic in their depths and understood that this wasn’t their old feud resurfacing. So long as he showed patience and serenity, Dilandau would remain calm. It was rather like dealing with a land dragon, a lesson he’d almost died learning.

This time, when he gently touched that shoulder, Dilandau only gave a minute twitch. He was trembling hard from both his exertions and his terror, but Van could see something struggling to life behind those eyes. The fierce captain was still there, locked behind the wall of drugs and desperately seeking any chance to be free.

He wanted to help him, he truly did, but now wasn’t the time. They were in no position to escape. Right now, their best bet was to lull these goons into a false sense of security then escape together. It was hard trying to convey that with only his eyes, but he convinced himself that Dilandau understood at least on some level and would hopefully forgive him for what he was about to do.

“Hey Dilandau.” He murmured gently once it became clear that he wasn’t going to lose his hand for touching that soft silken skin. Honestly, what sort of man had skin that soft? Did he bathe in honey and cream or something?

Amazingly, Dilandau actually leaned into the touch slightly and his eyes fluttered closed. Tense muscles relaxed marginally and Van took a moment to take a deep breath of relief. Thank the gods, it was working.

“Dilandau, you must be thirsty.” Van continued, gently stroking his fingers across the other boys arm in a soothing pattern. After years of living with Merle, his hands seemed to do it automatically, and like the cat girl, the dragonslayer seemed to melt into the touch. “I have water for you to drink, but you need to drink all of it so you can be strong. You like being strong right?”

It was highly unlikely that Dilandau really understood what he was saying, but tone was really what was important at the moment. With this in mind, he continued to speak, complimenting the other boy on his cooperation and making empty reassurances that everything would be alright soon enough.

Slowly, cautiously, Van leaned closer and uncapped the canteen, letting the other teen smell the water. As expected, those crimson eyes lit up and he leaned towards the jug, his mouth opening like a baby bird. It might have even looked adorable had their situation not been so dark.

Feeling more than a little like he was betraying Dilandau’s trust, Van helped him drink the drugged water, ensuring that he finished it all before holding it out and tipping it upside down to demonstrate that it was empty before sliding it towards the door. He didn’t want to give their jailers any excuse to enter the cell.

At least both men had been shocked speechless by the spectacle as the berserk warlord blinked blearily, the new dose taking hold.

Though he could have, now that his job was done, Van didn’t pull away. He continued to gently stroke the other boys arm, keeping the calming contact for as long as possible. The feel of Canteen’s eyes staring at him made his skin crawl, but he held onto his enforced calm and looked up to meet the vile man’s gaze.

“You keep him calm and we’ll let you stay like that.” The man said after a rather long and uncomfortable silence. “If he acts up, or you try anything, we’ll bind you so tightly that your hands will fall off. Got it?”

“I got it.” Van replied coldly. “He’s going to need someone to look at his wrists though. He cut them up pretty badly, and if they fester...” There was no need to elaborate. These men had obviously dealt with prison related wounds before.

“Do we look like doctors to you?” Canteen actually sounded amused by this. “He’ll last for the week. Any infection he gets won’t kill him in that amount of time. The freak isn’t that lucky.” That being said, the man pulled out a different canteen from his belt and slid it towards Van. “The water’s clean. Drink it, clean his wrists. I don’t care what you do with it, but that’s all you’re getting for the day. Deacon will come by with some food in a bit for you both and we expect you to make sure the freak eats.”

“What about relieving ourselves?” Van found himself asking, growing more than a little concerned regarding the horrific conditions they were currently being held in. So far they’d been lucky and it was only urine, but soon enough, they’d be passing solids and what with Dilandau’s open wounds, that was just asking for trouble.

“We ain’t stopping you.” Was the callous reply and for a moment, all Van could do was stare at the two men, utterly aghast at their casual disregard for basic human needs. “Piss, shit, we don’t care.” Canteen continued with a shrug. “We’ll hose you down once a day to keep the smell under control. Until then, it’s your problem.” Oh he was going to kill these men. Dilandau was damn well going to have to wait his turn because Van was going to be the one to set them on fire and dance on their disgusting ashes!

Turning away in clear dismissal, Canteen motioned for Brand to follow him, shutting the cell door behind them with a loud ominous clang, leaving them once again in the darkness.

Once again, their feathers granted them a gentle light though it took Van’s eyes some time to adjust to their dim glow. Dilandau shifted against him slightly and something soft brushed against his hand. Cautiously, Van moved his fingers around, trying to figure out what part of the other youth he was holding while fighting down a rather heated blush. His mind was all too eager to supply a rather creative assortment of anatomy he could be feeling right about now. _Don’t be a pervert_. He quickly chided to himself. _Dilandau wouldn’t do something like that!_ Of course, that simply brought to mind memories of the taller youth straddling him, his hips rocking in that most amazing way as he pinned Van to the roof... _Dammit! It was his cheek! Stupid perverted brain_. He could feel the delicate bone of his cheek, the gentle ridge of his brow and if he moved his thumb slightly, there was the silken tickle of pale silvery lashes.

It seemed inherently wrong for Van to be gently caressing the cheek of his one time arch nemesis and he longed to pull his hand away but in his heart, he couldn’t deny Dilandau the meagre comfort of his touch. The guy had been through hell, and was heading right back there. Really, it was the least he could do right now.

Allowing himself another deep and heartfelt sigh, Van closed his eyes and shifted closer to the albino until his head rested on the others boy’s shoulder. It likely wasn’t the most comfortable position for Dilandau seeing as how his arms were still tightly bound above his head, but the albino didn’t make any complaints. Most likely, he was simply too drugged to care. Besides, the extra physical contact would likely do wonders for his mental stability.

“Hitomi...”He murmured softly into the darkness. “If you can hear me, we could really use your help right about now.”

 

_All around him lay the dead, sprawled broken and ruined upon a burned field. Blood had soaked into the ground, turning it into a vile morass of mud, excrement and far less pleasant things. The mess had then been baked by the merciless sun which hung overhead, red and sullen, staring down like some swollen unblinking eye._

_Though there was no breeze, he could see pennants moving from their crooked poles, several still clutched in the stiff and lifeless hands of their bearers, the colours of each respective country jarringly brilliant against the ominously monochromatic backdrop of the battlefield._

_In the distance he could hear the screams of those still struggling futilely to hold onto their fading lives. Occasionally he could make out words torn from ruined throats in various tongues, few of which he recognized. Others simply begged for mercy, as if anyone laying upon this cursed field had the power to grant it. Beneath that were the names, echoing through the air around him, chanted by a thousand dead lips._

_“Gatti,_ _Miguel,_ _Dallet... Shesta...”_ _They became a mantra, a prayer all of their own and with each repetition, he could feel his life slipping further away from him._ _Was he dying? Was that even possible? He’d never truly known defeat, never felt the utter hopelessness that it brought, but now he could almost imagine the taste of it on his lips. It wasn’t a pleasant taste and it made him want to purge its foulness from his body._

_Moving was impossible. At best he could arch his back and turn his head, but anything more proved to be beyond his capabilities. It was only when he turned his head to the sides that he saw the reason. Someone had stretched his arms out on either side of him, as if he were trying to embrace the sky itself. Holding him in that inglorious pose were two long swords which had been driven deep into his forearms, pinning him to the foul ground. The blades were simple and unadorned weapons though something about them warned that they were more ceremonial than utilitarian and for some reason, he felt the bitter burn of insult twist within his guts. The pain didn’t matter nearly as much as the slap in the face that his captivity implied and he struggled against his bonds fiercely, feeling hot blood slide down his flesh to mingle with the mess beneath him._

_Exhausted, his throat parched and limbs shaking, he finally ceased to fight against his bonds. The blades might be dull and the metal cheap, but it was still effective enough to hold him prisoner. Laying there panting, he looked around himself, hoping to find something he could use. All he saw were bodies, stiff and bloating in the sun. There were no weapons within reach and no one in any shape to lend aid._

_In the distance, he took note of the ominously dark plumes of smoke drifti_ _ng_ _up from various points on the field. They brought with them the stench_ _of burned flesh and guymelef oil. Once it was a smell which had brought_ _h_ _im comfort, the sign of a battle well done. Only now, there was the very real sense that he’d failed, that he’d lost and was now counted among the dying._

_Up above, the vultures circled silently, their wings barely moving on the charnel breeze. They drifted across the face of the sun, their shadows falling over him time and time again. Each time the darkness passed over him, he felt a deep chill which reached down into his bones and the screams in the distance grew exponentially louder._

_As the foul birds drifted lower he could see that they weren’t in fact vultures but rather something far more sinister. Draconians. He could make out the details of their arms, their legs, occasionally a flash of a face. Their mouths stretched in hungry grins and baring sharp pointed teeth, eager for the taste of his flesh._

_Grey feathers drifted down like snow around him, soft and silken though cold as ice. The touch of them against his skin was sickening and repulsive, making his very soul cringe as he tried desperately to pull_ _a_ _way rather than risk being contaminated by their inherent foulness._

_“Fly with us young one.” They called to him, their sepulchr_ _al_ _voices drifting over the cries of the dying. “_ _Spread your wings and join us, be one of us and feast upon the bones of the world.” Drifting ever lower, their hands remained outstretched as if to pull him to them and he cringed away in horror._

_He couldn’t back away, couldn’t raise his arms and fight. All he could do was stare in horror as the foul beings descended, bringing with them the stench of a dying world and the screams of the damned._

_“GATTI!” He found himself screaming in desperation. “_ _Miguel!_ _Shesta! Dallet!_ _V_ _iole! Guimel!” Alone, he was alone and entirely at their mercy. The breeze grew in strength as the banners now whipped against their poles, the fluttering sounding like flapping wings. “Keep them away! Please!! Don’t touch me!!”_

_“Feast with us! Be one of us!” They called to him, their shadows passing over his body time and time again until he was shivering in cold, his every frantic breath fogging the air around him,_ _obscuring his sight_ _._

_Hands suddenly reached up from the corrupted ground beneath him and clasped onto his already bound arms and legs. Bony fingers dug into the tender flesh of his arms, drawing blood as they sought to pull him down with them to rot in the bowels of the earth._

_“Mine.” A loathsome voice drifted across his ears, so familiar and dreaded that for a moment, the sharp toothed draconians seemed to be the better fate. “Always mine my_ _eidolon_ _, my beautiful toy. They cannot have you. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine.” More hands dug their way free from the earth and began to grab onto him, stroking him, cutting him... pulling him down_ _into damnation. “Let me touch you, examine you, tear you apart. Show me your secrets my pet. I am your destiny.”_

_No!!! nonononono!_

_“Miguel! Gatti! Gaddes!! Anyone!” He screamed into the emptiness, refusing to accept the fates which closed in around him. There had to be another way! He refused to fall!_

_As he screamed, a hand burst forth from his chest, spraying blood and viscera in all directions. Clutched in its vicious grip was his heart, still beating frantically against it’s bony prison. Even as he stared at the sight, utterly aghast, the draconians up above gave a joyous shriek and dove towards the bloody prize, their mouths opened wide and ready to feast._

 

 

“VAN!” The scream tore the young king out of the precarious peace brought on by sleep, causing him to try to leap to his feet, ready for battle. At last, that had been his intention. Instead, he fell heavily to the floor, nearly pulling both his shoulders out of their sockets as his legs refused to obey his command and his arms seemed to be tangled up together.

It took several moments for his sleep deprived mind to realize exactly where he was and what was going on. He was sprawled on the filthy floor of their cell, still chained, albeit loosely to the wall and had apparently been using Dilandau’s leg as a pillow. Said leg was now thrashing violently against it’s bonds as the albino teen struggled desperately to escape his internal demons.

Another scream pierced the air, threatening to shatter his eardrums, or worse, bring their captors into the cell. The sound was so filled with agony and terror that for a moment, Van fully expected to see blood erupt from fatal wounds on the other teens body, but whatever it was that was torturing him was apparently wholly in his mind.

Worry filled him as he remembered Canteen’s warnings should they be bothered by any of Dilandau’s outbursts and he scrambled over to his thrashing companion. For once it was almost a good thing that he was restrained because judging by the way those slender muscles strained against his bonds, with little regard for the damage his struggles caused, he was far beyond being able to pull any punches. Van stood a rather high chance of risking broken bones at the very least should Dilandau actually tear his way free of his chains. Speaking of, he could actually hear the metal beginning to groan in protest. At least, he hoped it was the metal and not Dilandau’s actual bones threatening to shatter.

“GADDES!!! Miguel! Gatti!” Dilandau screamed once again and Van grit his teeth as he gave the sleeping youth a hard shake, hoping to jostle him back into consciousness. It didn’t work, all it did was cause him to struggle even harder as he did battle with unseen enemies. “NOOOO!!! Don’t kill them! Please!” The proud captain begged, tears shining on his silvery lashes.

For a moment, Van pulled back, his stomach twisting with nausea as he realized what it was the other boy was dreaming of. A barren plateau during a thunderstorm, his men closing in around their enemy, secure in their victory only to find the tables turned against them.

Bile rose up in his throat as he remembered the sheer wild joy he’d felt during that massacre. Power had flowed through him as it never had before. There’d been no doubt, no hesitation and no mercy. He’d loved every movement, the way metal had shrieked against metal as he’d torn through their defences, slaughtering the boys within the armours. It had been like a drug, the blood lust calling to him, urging him onward until every living thing within his reach had been dead.

Hitomi had said that it had been Dilandau’s madness reaching out to him, pulling him into its depths, but that still didn’t absolve him of that past crime, nor did it stop the horrors it had etched into the soul of the battles sole survivor. He’d done this to that proud warrior. Every scream wrenched out of Dilandau’s throat was his fault and Van felt it like a crushing weight on his heart.

“You need to be quiet!” He hissed loudly as Dilandau shrieked once again, his voice rising far higher and louder than should have been anatomically possible. As much as he wanted to simply reach out and cover the other boy’s mouth with his hand, he couldn’t risk it. He’d seen how willing Dilandau was to bite and there was no doubt that he’d lose several fingers if he was stupid enough to put them within reach, especially if the youth in question was lost in nightmare.

His only option could very well make things even worse, but there was no time to come up with a better strategy. Giving yet another quick prayer to any god who would answer, Van drew back his hand and slapped Dilandau hard across the face. It was a perfect hit and snapped the other boy’s head sharply to the side, reopening the cut on his lip in the process.

Thankfully the scream stopped and Dilandau’s eyes shot open, wide and wild. Van had less than a half second to leap back out of reach as the dragonslayer lunged for him, full of maddened fury.

“Calm down!” He hissed sharply in the wake of the sudden silence, his eyes fixed on Dilandau’s, unflinching. “If you bring those guys in again, they’ll probably cripple one of us!”

“YOU KILLED THEM!!! YOU TORE THEM APART YOU BASTARD!!!” How did that bastard manage that level of volume? The drugs were supposed to be keeping him calm and docile the way they had been for the past few days. It seemed that the dragonslayer was either building up an immunity or was simply too furious to succumb to their effects. Neither really boded well for their immediate survival.

“Yes I did!” Van snapped back, doing his best to keep the heat from his voice, knowing that growing angry would only further escalate the situation. “I didn’t want to and I regret it constantly. If I could go back and change things, I swear on Escaflowne that I would in a heartbeat, but I can’t. You came after me, you fought me fifteen to one and I defended myself to the best of my abilities. Yes, I was cruel and yes I was brutal.” He continued as the captain fell silent, shocked by his outburst. “You’re not the only one who hears their screams Dilandau. I hear them whenever I close my eyes. I feel my sword take their lives over and over again and I know that I’ll never forget how it felt. Neither of us can ever atone for the lives we took during the war because the dead can never truly forgive us.

“I’m trying to do right by them now. Can’t you see that? They died protecting you. Even in death, they protected you and since for some reason, they can’t anymore, I’ll do it for them.” He took a deep breath and then reached down to hold up the feather Dilandau had given him. It still shone as brilliantly as it did the day it had been given to him, despite the filth that now covered the rest of them. “I want things to be balanced between us. Both of us hurt each other grievously and we’ll always bear the wounds in our hearts, but these represent a new beginning. I’ll stand by you Dilandau, and I hope that you’ll stand by me as well because only together are we going to get through this mess.”

After such a long speech, having spoken more than he had over the past few days, Van felt more than a little wrung out and he couldn’t quite keep from sagging as those smouldering eyes seemed to grow calmer. There was still something haunted and broken in their depths, but seeing as how Dilandau was no longer screaming for his blood, he was going to class this as a win.

“We’re getting closer.” Dilandau finally murmured softly, his body relaxing somewhat, unable to hold onto his rage and fight against the fog in his mind at the same time. “What’s wrong with me? I can’t think straight... I feel so tired and groggy.” There was a slight slurring to his words as he let his head slump over onto his shoulder, shooting Van a somewhat nervous glance.

Sliding closer and allowing Dilandau to lean against him as much as his restraints allowed, Van used a bit of their meagre water supply to wash the new wounds torn by the manacles as well as he was able to. After all they’d been through, he wasn’t about to let the crazy bastard get an infection.

“The water is drugged.” He replied, ready for the way the pale body stiffened against him. “They give you water from a different canteen so that you won’t keep trying to kill yourself. I give it to you since you won’t let the crew anywhere near you.”

“Can you fake drugging me?” The question was so calm and reasonable sounding that it actually caught Van off guard for a moment.

“No... they watch me give it to you.” He replied after a moment and again was surprised when Dilandau simply nodded his head calmly. It seemed that he wasn’t quite as immune to their effects as he might have hoped. Still, it was better than sitting there with a catatonic drooling dragonslayer for endless hours.

“We’re not going to be able to escape are we.” There was no fear in the statement, just a simple empty acceptance and it made Van feel like a monster to have to shake his head.

“No... no we’re not.”

“Thought so...” Dilandau’s voice was growing more and more detached as the adrenaline left his system. “There’s never any escape... he always wins... he’ll take everything again...” Pale lashes fluttered closed for a moment and Van could feel the pale body tremble against his as Dilandau swallowed a soft sob of defeat.

“Van... promise...” The words were barely audible in the silence of the room. Leaning over close enough to feel the soft breath against his cheek, Van waited for the other to continue. “The feathers... anchor....” The words filled the king with a sick and horrified sense of dread and he shook his head violently from side to side.

“No way! I haven’t done that to you! I’m not your anchor! I would never do that to you!” Gods of Gaea! How deluded did Dilandau have to be to think that Van would rape him in his drugged state? What the hell did Zaibach do to it’s soldiers!?

A crimson eye cracked open for a moment and Van saw the edge of scorn and exasperation beneath the bleary glaze that filled them.

“Lie.” He whispered, tilting his head slightly in a way which was almost an affectionate nuzzle. “Anchor.” The drugs power finally claimed him, pulling him down into a wakeful oblivion as Van stared at him in utter confusion. He quite honestly had no idea what Dilandau was talking about and that nuzzle... his skin seemed to buzz where it had been touched and he couldn’t quite keep from brushing over it with his hand. What the in the name of all the hells was going on here?

As he struggled to try to understand his companions drugged mind, he felt the floor shift and an abrupt change in pressure as the leviship began to drop in altitude. A lump rose up in his throat as his guts did their best to tie themselves in knots as his mind quickly made the realization that they were at their destination.

Remembering the conversation he’d had with Dilandau nearly a week ago, he found himself wishing that he could simply be a crab, cursed to devour offal on the ocean floor for eternity. His new reality was likely going to be much much worse.

 

 

 

They didn’t drag the prisoners to their new lives immediately. Instead, Van sat there in their cell for nearly half an hour, listening to Dilandau’s drug induced mumbling. When their captors did finally come for them, they first tossed the king the drugged water, not wanting to risk having the dragonslayer act up during the exchange. Judging by the glint in Canteen’s eyes, it was also to ensure that Van wouldn’t try to escape either. The man was clever enough to realize that the king was invested in the life of his companion and if one couldn’t run, the other would stay as well.

“It’s not time for his dose.” The king attempted to protest, knowing full well that the man was aware of this and was simply being extra cautious. “You could kill him with an overdose.”

“I doubt that.” Canteen replied calmly. “Besides, this is a half dose. I’m still dealing with four injured men because of that freak and I’m not taking a chance when I’m this close to getting my reward.” His thin lips pulled back into a wide grin. “You should feel honoured Your Majesty. You’ve make me and my crew very rich men.”

“You’ll have no use for riches on the Paths of the Dead.” The king shot back coldly. “You’re dooming Gaea by doing this, you have to know that.”

“Oh please.” The man scoffed, not looking the least bit concerned. “I’m just bringing someone their freakish little pet back. As for yourself... well, you’ve annoyed a lot of people over the past year of the war. You really shouldn’t be surprised that this happened. Now feed the freak his medicine like a good boy and we’ll get rid of you that much quicker.”

Hating the man just that much more, Van took the canteen and obediently drugged Dilandau. There was no resistance on the dragonslayer’s part and all too soon, he was sagging bonelessly against Van, barely aware of the world around him.

As if waiting for this moment, Brand appeared at the doorway with a large hose in hand and Van grit his teeth. After a week of inhuman treatment, he knew what was coming even before the freezing cold water hit him. At least it would wash away the accumulated filth from their bodies... well, most of it. He was rather sure that it would take some intense scrubbing with harsh soap to fully eliminate the stench that had seeped into his pores from their confinement.

 

Once they were passably clean, the two men stepped into the room and while Canteen held his sword at the ready, Brand unfastened Dilandau’s chains from the wall and then freed his feet, allowing the dazed youth to walk. It took several attempts to get the albino to grasp the concept of standing after he’d been held in one place for a week. He was prone to leaning precariously to one side or the other until he stumbled, forcing Brand to take him by the arm and hold him upright. Judging by the strain on the man’s arm, he’d ended up carrying most of the dragonslayers weight.

“I trust you can figure out the drill Your Majesty.” Canteen stated as he held up the key to Van’s own chains. “If you give us any problems or try to escape, we’ll slit the freaks throat. I’d rather not lose the little monster this close to handing you over, but I’d rather he die than explain that I let you run, so do us all a favour and behave.”

Shooting the man a sneer that Dilandau would have been proud of, Van nodded his head and extended his hands, allowing Canteen to release him. Words couldn’t describe how beautiful it felt to have those heavy chains off of his wrists and he took a moment to rub them vigorously. Bits of dead skin and dirt flaked off in small sheets, making Van wonder just what sort of shape the dragonslayers must be in what with all of his struggling. As much as he’d tried to keep the wounds clean, he was positive that the other teen had gotten an infection of some sort. Hopefully their new tormentors would do something about it rather than let their prize die from something easily fixed.

“Move it you two. Your new masters have been kept waiting long enough.” Canteen gave Van a firm push forward, guiding him roughly through the small and less than impressive leviship.

Despite knowing that he likely was never going to see freedom again, Van did his best to take in as many details as he could about his captors and their transportation. Unfortunately, his knowledge of leviships was pretty much limited to the Crusade and Dryden’s personal ship. Still, there was something familiar in the design which hinted that this was also likely Astorian in design. At least the writing on various pipes and signage was in Astorian.

The large cargo hold seemed to support the theory that this was in fact a merchant ship which had possibly been stolen. Large crates and bundles lined the walls, securely tied down for travel. Judging by the markings on the front, they were filled with preserved food ready to be stockpiles for the coming winter.

“Did you steal the ship too?” He found himself asking, unable to quite keep the bitterness from his voice at the thought of all of the needy villages which would likely suffer a rather terrible famine because of these brigands. Canteen didn’t bother answering. Instead he just gave Van another rough shove forward, eager to get rid of him and finish his job.

They were inside a large hangar which was filled with other leviships in various state of repair, most likely from the war. Their designs were mostly Basramish, though there were a few belonging to Daedalus and one from Egzardia. They were the ones suffering the most damage, leading Van to believe that they had been scavenged form the battlefield or dragged in by mercenary groups like the one he’d first had the misfortune to encounter. Still, they all flew the republics flags, marking them as the enemy.

On every wall hung more of the huge crimson flags of the Basram Republic, the white serpents intertwined around each other ready to strike. Ostentatious and utterly unnecessary, Van could only look at them and think of how many people all of that cloth could clothe. Clearly whoever was in charge was far more concerned with national pride and appearance than the country as a whole.

Soldiers wearing Basram’s dark green and grey armour and metal skullcaps stood on guard by various doors and key locations. All of them appeared to be alert, armed and well fed, their eyes following the brigands and their prisoners warily.

Though most of them seemed to recognize the two teenagers, none of them bore them any welcome, in fact, everyone seemed to glare at them with equal and outright hostility. It was unsettling to see this from a country he’d known as an ally during the war and he knew that he’d find no help here.

A contingent of soldiers approached them, walking in tight formation, their footsteps perfectly timed with each other and led by a tall rail thin man with the dark hair and eyes prevalent with the basram people. His uniform was similar to those of the men behind him, though he wore several medals on his chest armour, hanging on brightly coloured ribbons which drew the eye to his accomplishments.

He and Canteen exchanged a few terse words with each other in the local language. Van managed to catch his and Dilandau’s names but little else. Still, that didn’t stop him from studying the newcomer intently and with the practised eye of a seasoned warrior.

This man was soft physically and the fanelian king was rather sure that he’d likely never held a sword in his life. The man’s medals might mark him as a great warrior, but most likely he led from behind the rank and file, safely out of range of any enemy attack. Still, judging by the hard flatness of his eyes, this likely wasn’t a man to cross.

Once, before the war, Van would have dismissed him as little more than an annoyance, but he’d learned since then that politics and bureaucracy could be just as deadly as any sword when one knew how to wield it’s power. This man radiated the cool confidence of one who knew it well and was secure in his position. A potentially deadly enemy to be sure, given his current situation.

The soldiers and their leader fell into step alongside them, acting as additional security. Clearly their kidnappers had heard of the previous last minute escapes and were taking no further chances. Still, Van couldn’t help eyeing their swords and pondering his chances of grabbing one and fighting for his freedom. As if sensing his thoughts, Canteen reached out and gave his shoulder a harsh squeeze.

“Remember what I said. We’ll kill the freak if we feel we have to.” Damn the man!

Undaunted, Van refused to give in and strained his ears to try to listen in on any conversations happening around him, hoping to learn something that could be of aid. Unfortunately, he’d only had limited exposure to the Basram language and it sounded like little more than harsh quickly spoken gibberish to his untrained ears. Bitterly, he realized that Folken would have likely known not only the language but any helpful customs which might have gen them some way of locating an ally in this mess. He’d been the scholar and diplomat of the family while Van had always seen his lessons as something to be suffered through so that he could spend more time training with Balgus.

Idly, he wondered if maybe Dilandau could speak their language, but a quick glance over his shoulder at the silvery youth showed that the albino was still in a deep daze, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. The hangar could likely be on fire and he wouldn’t notice or care.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be doing something to escape rather than allow himself to be led deeper into the fortress and into labyrinthine hallways, each one marked by strange writing. All too quickly he found that he was utterly lost. Everything looked the same to him. Cold grey metal walls, more flags proclaiming the base commanders fanatical and wildly misplaced patriotism.

Much like Zaibach, their lights came from the harnessed energy of low grade energist crystals rather than torches and it gave everything a cold unwelcoming feel. The building lacked any fell of humanity. There were no chisel marks on stone, no hand woven curtains or tapestries. Nothing here had been touched by human hands, it was all mass produced and soulless, leading Van to wonder just what kind of man was in charge of their fates from here on out.

 

They walked for nearly half an hour, moving deeper into the fortress and steadily downwards. Their contingent of guards stayed with them the entire way, forcing anyone they passed to step aside and make room for their progression.

One thing that Van noticed and couldn’t help but feel a little disturbed by was the near uniformity of their appearance. Almost every person they passed bore the telltale black hair and eyes of their people, but it didn’t stop there. Sure, there was a difference in height, features and weight, but there was still a similarity between them all, as if he was looking at various versions of the same small group of people. There only seemed to be about five different hairstyles being worn and they all wore the same uniforms, differentiated only by rank.

There didn’t appear to be any women present. Sure, he was used to such a thing on the battlefield, but surely there should be some females somewhere in this building. Still, everyone they passed had flat chests and masculine features on their cold and unwelcoming faces. He didn’t even see any beastkin present. This was by far the most jarring after a lifetime in Fanelia where they walked as equals among the humans. Sure, he knew that Basram didn’t see them as citizens and either enslaved or forced them into work camps, but he still found himself expecting to see some.

This level of uniformity wasn’t healthy at all and it made Van shiver in revulsion.

 

He was almost relieved when they finally came to a large door with no handles or locks. It was only his familiarity with the strange magic plate on the wall from that room below the palace that kept him from being shocked when the decorated soldier placed his hand on it, causing the door to slide open.

They were led into a tiny room which would barely fit all of them, causing half the soldiers to wait outside to prevent them from being bunched in together. There was no furniture in this room or decorations, only another panel on the wall, this one even larger than the first and decorated with several small domes. The leader of the soldiers pushed one of the globes, causing it to light up. The doors closed with a soft hiss and then Van cried out as the floor suddenly dropped out from beneath him.

Several soldiers chuckled at his reaction, though their leader simply shot him an annoyed glare and Canteen once again gave him a warning squeeze. The floor was still there beneath his feet... but somehow the room was falling at a rather worrisome rate. Still... no one seemed bothered by this fact. They all stood there patiently staring at the doors as if this was perfectly normal. Gritting his teeth and quietly praying to every god he could think of, Van held onto his self -control and joined them in their silent staring.

They stood in silence for around five minutes before the floors fall seemed to slow, then stop, jerking slightly at the very end. Levistones. It had to be levistones under the room, forcing it to rise and fall on command. Knowing this was interesting, but it didn’t make him feel any safer. At least in a ship, he could always dive out a window if the stones failed. He really didn’t like the idea of being trapped in a small room falling through what was likely a rather long shaft.

As the doors hissed open, he found himself in a new set of corridors. There were no flags here proclaiming a countries alliance, nor were there any people bustling about on strange errands. There was only the long unmarked hallway which ended at another set of doors.

Every step they took make the hair rise up on the back of Van’s neck as his every instinct screamed at him to turn around and run. Death lurked at the end of this hallway. Death and madness.

The instant he began to hesitate, that ever present hand shoved him forward and the guards all watched him with their hands resting on their swords, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. Seeing that he had little choice, he continued forward, hating every single step just a little more than the one previous.

When they reached the second door, the leader of the guards once again pressed the door panel, causing it to swing open and they found themselves in a large crescent room with huge glass windows overlooking a sort of amphitheatre below. For a moment, Van was simply stunned at the sheer amount of flawless glass being used. Few countries bothered to use the hard to create substance and fewer still could create it in such perfect sheets, free of any flaws or imperfections. Up until now, he’d only seen them used in leviships or decorating the odd high temple. Once again, he was stunned at the waste of resources.

Furious at this foolish show of opulence, he barely noticed as they were led through the room towards another set of panel controlled doors and into the amphitheatre itself. When he did notice, the door had already closed behind them and the guards fanned out on either side of it, blocking any escape.

Several rough shoves kept him moving, though his jaw practically dragged on the floor as his wide eyes struggled to take in everything around him.

It was a huge room, nearly the size of King Aston’s throne room, though without all of the ostentatious trappings which gave it light and life. Instead, this was more like a sinister cave of metal and wires that had all the homey comfort of a dragon’s den.

The floor was sloped downward on a gentle angle, leading the unfortunate king to what could only be described as a nightmare version of Folken’s lab. Lit like the hallways with blue energist, their cold light illuminated the floor but left the ceiling shrouded in darkness, barely hinting at the glistening strange shapes lurking up above.

Large glowing green cylinders lined two of the walls, stacked neatly on top of each other and bundled together in groups, their sickly light added to the unease filling Van and his skin practically crawled at the sight of them. Worse were the ring of human sized glass cylinders which rested tight against the walls. These strange containers were almost wholly encased with metal and had a wide variety of wires and tubes sprouting out of them. Strange crystal pillars stood around each one, dim and dormant.

A strange desk resembling Folken’s information retrieval device stood against one wall with several crystal screens around it. More wires sprouted thick as jungle vines from it’s back, reaching out to practically everything in the room and tracing along the walls into the depths of the ceilings darkness.

On either side of the device, large crystal columns rose up from the floor. Unlike the ones by the walls, these ones glowed softly with faint rainbow colours. Had he not already suspected them of some ultimately foul purpose, he might have even called the pretty in their simplicity, but he had a sneaking suspicion that they were just as sinister as everything else in the room.

The worst things by far were found in the rooms center. There stood two tables made from heavy metal slabs adorned with leather and metal restraints positioned perfectly for the arms and legs of a human being. Another set of straps was placed to bind the chest down, and another the head. Up above each table hung a series of harsh lights which were powerful enough to banish any shadow mercilessly.

There were smaller tables placed nearby but their size didn’t lessen the horrors they held. Even from where he stood, Van could see that they were covered in metal plates which held various strange and alien looking tools, most of them sharp and lethal looking. A few resembled things he’d seen Millerna use when she was healing Allen after the lake battle where the knight had been gravely injured. It seemed wrong to see tools designed to save lives in a place clearly intended to take them.

Behind one of the tables was another huge cylinder, this one filled with a strange pale rose liquid that looked almost pretty. Several tubes had been anchored into it’s top and fanned out to each of the containers surrounding the rooms edge. The other table held a strange device with much smaller containers all attached to various hoses, tubes and strange machines. He honestly wasn’t sure which one was worse, but he knew that those two tables were intended for himself and Dilandau.

Nervously, he cast a glance over at the aforementioned dragonslayer, positive that the albino was about to have a violent panic attack of some sort at seeing his nightmares come to life once more. Again he was struck by a nearly overwhelming sense of rage at the idea that anyone had to have been forced to grow up with this. This room, while not the one Dilandau had been tortured in for years was obviously of similar intent and it sickened him that any child should have been subjected to it’s horrors. No wonder the albino was always so fearless. He’d already seen hell in every sense of the word. He’d grown up there.

Surprisingly, the albino continued to walk forward obediently, his eyes blank and empty as he offered no resistance. The fresh dose of drugs kept him willing and tractable and he likely wasn’t even mentally capable of grasping the nightmare he’d just walked into. Van wasn’t sure if he was envious of his companion’s fugue, or if he pitied him all the more. Dilandau would have no mental preparation for what surrounded him. The trap had already closed around them and once he was cognizant enough to even think about escape, he’d already be doomed.

“Ahhh gentlemen.” A voice as cold and impersonal as those hellish tables drifted out from the darkness. Though the words were Astorian, the harsh accent was pure zaibach and eerily similar to Dilandau’s. Brand and Canteen drew to a stop and the firm hand holding Van’s shoulder squeezed him painfully in warning. There was no need for words. If he acted up, he’d die.

A shadow shifted off to his right and he saw twin circles of light reflected back at him as a figure stepped forward, slipping out from the darkness like some nightmarish demon birthed from the shadows themselves. As the newcomer approached, Van could see that the twin circles of light were in fact glasses perched upon a large aquiline nose which dominated the harsh and narrow face of the sorcerer in question. The man was tall, slender, his body completely shrouded in the long black cloak similar to the one Folken had always sported. His pale scalp had been ruthlessly shorn of any hair and cold grey eyes stared at them with reptilian flatness.

Colourless thin lips parted into a calculating smile as those eyes slid over the king, not even acknowledging his existence before addressing the man behind him.

“Your timing is excellent Pinez, as always. Our newest batch of subjects are ready for the next stage of the process. Now that we possess the proper ingredients, we should be able to proceed without further issue. I trust that they are both in proper working order?” Horror welled up inside Van as he realized that he’d just been referred to as an ingredient of all things! Canteen dragged the stunned king forwards with a sharp tug, causing him to grunt softly in pain.

An Ingredient? Over the years of public life, Van had grown used to being stared at and sized up. It was something one got used to when one was a king and a war hero. He had experienced various levels of cold calculating looks, awestruck gazing and even (courtesy of Dilandau) hate filled glares. This was the first time someone had ever looked at him as if he was nothing more than a thing, stripped of any and all humanity or sentience. The utter casual disregard in the sorcerer’s eyes denied him all of these qualities, reducing the proud teenager to a tool... an object; one which had no say in any aspect of its fate now that he was in this man’s custody. The realization was beyond sobering. It was utterly terrifying.

“Good, you’ve brought the vessel. It seems to be sound enough, though we will of course require a full physical examination.” Once again, Dilandau’s cold impersonal warning rose up in his mind, advising him of what to expect from this vile creature. “Strip it down clean it properly before it contaminates the lab.” And like that, he was dismissed, the sorcerers cold gaze shifting to Dilandau who continued to stand there vacantly, offering as much resistance as an empty doll.

Only now did emotion flare in the sorcerers flat eyes and it chilled Van to the bone. They burned with a possessiveness which bordered on the fanatical. There was nothing even remotely sane in that look and Van knew that whatever fate had in store for him, Dilandau’s was going to be much worse.

Smiling now, the expression more accurately resembling a twisted slash across that cadaverous face than any human expression, the man stepped forward and cupped Dilandau’s bruised cheeks in his hand, tilting his head from side to side, examining the damage.

“He gave us problems.” Canteen stated, sounding somewhat nervous and unsure as those pale cruel eyes flickered towards him in silent accusation. “Crippled one of my men and three others are missing pieces they ain’t never getting back.”

“And yet I had provided the appropriate sedatives required to render him docile.”

“Yeah...” It was interesting to see Canteen so thoroughly cowed by someone as scrawny as the sorcerer, but the man looked about ready to crawl into the floor rather than met the eyes of his questioner. Van could only imagine the things he must have seen to render him so submissive to someone he could likely break with one hand. “We figured that once he was chained up, he’d be manageable.” A dark look was aimed in Dilandau’s direction. “The freak is a monster. We gave him a double dose just to make sure he got here without a problem.”

Rather than look angry over the statement, the sorcerer in fact looked almost proud. Returning his attention to Dilandau, he traced long spidery fingers through the now matted and dull white hair, stroking him as if he was some sort of prized pet. The act made Van’s already sickened stomach churn even more but it was the man’s words which held the true horror.

“Perfect. Indomitable as always.” The sorcerer gently tilted Dilandau’s face up so that he could stare into those vacant eyes and his smile grew cruel and possessive. “Your struggles have always been so beautiful my eidolon. Such a delight to watch. You’ve fought so hard, but as I’ve always said, no matter how much time and space comes between us, destiny will always bring you back to your master.” A bony thumb stroked across plump alabaster pale lips covetously, playfully sliding between them in a sickening parody of intimacy. “I’m most eager to examine you 35. It’s fascinating how you regained your body and mind despite the will of Destiny. The sheer power required to achieve such an act, not to mention the field reports I’ve received. I had thought you lost, but truly you are defying all expectations. I shall indeed enjoy examining you... fully.”

There was no mistaking the leer in the man’s voice nor the vile way he stared at the dragonslayer, practically undressing Dilandau with his eyes. There was no doubt in Van’s mind who this man was. Zane Shroden himself, the monster who’d created Dilandau, who’d abused him over and over again for his sick amusements. They were doomed.

“That’s the great Dilandau Albatou?” A new voice spoke up from the far end of the room. He spoke Basrami, but Van as able to make out the statement well enough despite the heavy dose of contempt that coloured the words. The sheer level of self importance in that voice made it clear who this was even before the middle aged Basram general stepped into view. “I expected someone... taller, and looking less like some pleasure house whore.”

General Tseng looked every inch how Van had expected. The man was heavy set and what had once been a strong body in his youth, had long since allowed soft living to round out his middle and plump his jowls enough to sag. Small dark eyes studied the two prisoners dispassionately and his dark bushy moustache twitched as it concealed a sneer.

The facial hair was unusual compared to the rest of the fortress personnel’s appearance, but his dress uniform was of similar design only adorned to such a degree that it seemed to be almost a caricature of his underlings. The be-ribboned medals on his chest were thick enough to dub as armour should the need arise. Each one was polished to a mirror finish and at a glance, Van could tell that there was no way the man had truly earned even half of his accolades.

“And _King_ Van Slanzer Fanel. I’ve heard much about you.” His Asturian was clipped and heavily accented but far easier to understand than his native tongue. The emphasis he put on his title was openly mocking and made the hair on the back of Van’s neck stand on end. It was a struggle not to bare his teeth at the general, though he desperately wanted nothing more than to run this foul fat man through repeatedly. Instead, he drew himself up to his full height and glared up at his captor.

“In kidnapping us, you’ve declared war on both Fanelia and Asturia. Release us immediately and I shall ensure that some measure of mercy is granted to you.” His voice trembled with the raw fury burning behind it but the general acted as if he hadn’t heard a single world. Instead, the portly man began to slowly walk around him, staring openly as if he were some sort of exotic pet.

“Odd, you almost look human.” General Tseng commented lightly. “It’s hard to believe that King Goau chose to rut with a damn beast.” He continued casually, speaking to himself as his vile words shocking Van into utter silence. “Even worse that his advisors would allow such a sickening act to desecrate their royal lineage.” A look of utter disgust twisted those soft features as he man gave an exaggerated shudder of revulsion. “Then for Fanelia to allow such a twisted whelp to become their king... perhaps Zaibach had the right idea in razing that sick country to the ground.”

So much for going quietly. Van screamed out in raw rage at the insult to his family and his country. Lunging forward, he was fully prepared to throttle the life out of this bastards carcass with his bare hands and damn the consequences! Of course, Canteen was ready for the attack and quickly twisted Van’s arm behind his back with the man’s other burly arm wrapped around his throat, effectively cutting off the blood supply to his brain. Almost immediately spots began to dance on the edge of his vision and he struggled briefly but viciously for his freedom.

In mere moments, he was barely clinging to consciousness and sagging heavily against his captor. Smiling cruelly, Tseng gave a small gesture with his hand and Canteen released the hold just enough for blood to once again trickle through his carotid artery, allowing his consciousness to return, though leaving his body feeling weak and uncoordinated.

“None of that Your Majesty.” The general sneered cruelly, clearly enjoying his mastery of the situation. “Don’t they teach you manners in Fanelia? That’s hardly the way for a guest to behave. Clearly your ill breeding is showing true and you’re no better than the animals you cavort about with.” He allowed himself a mocking laugh. “Are you sure we require such... pathetic materials Shroden?” He dismissed Van with a negligent hand wave, turning towards the sorcerer, clearly having little fear of retaliation. “They stink of filth and are hardly visually impressive despite their obviously overblown reputations.”

“I assure you, they are irreplaceable and both vital for the success of this project.” Shroden took his gaze off of Dilandau for only a moment to address the general. It was that split second of inattention which Dilandau had been desperately waiting for, struggling against the pull of the drugs and his own terror.

In one fluid movement, he reached over and grabbed Brand’s sword from the man’s belt. Despite the wrong handed grip, he twisted neatly, driving the weapon deep into his captor’s stomach and slashing outwards viciously, tearing a wide gaping hole through the man’s abdomen. Hot steaming entrails spilled out onto the floor at his feet before anyone could even think of reacting.

Brand stared down at the tangled coils of his intestinal tract now haphazardly looping about his feet and the foul spill of stomach fluids, a wet whining shriek slowly working it’s way up his throat. The man swayed slightly as his legs gave out beneath him, dropping him on top of the foul mess. With desperate motions, the murderer grabbed at his ruined organs, trying to shove them back into their proper places with rapidly failing strength and coordination.

The instant the blade had torn free of soft flesh, Dilandau had already been lunging at Shroden with a bloodthirsty shriek. A perfect arch of blood sprayed out from the sword tip, tracing the path of its killing stroke.

The vicious revenge was everything Van could dream of and he drank in every single one of Brand’s pitiful cries, watching eagerly for the foul sorcerer’s head to go flying off it his skinny shoulders. Yes, it was wrong, it was cruel and wholly against everything Hitomi had struggled to teach him, but all he could see were the faces of those poor tortured children. Butchered like animals, their lives an unending series of agonizing tortures, they demanded bloody justice and he would be proud to witness its deliverance.

His grin of anticipation became one of utter horror as Dilandau’s vicious downward strike was suddenly twisted off course and he let out a shriek of utter agony. The sorcerer didn’t so much as blink as the lethal blade missed him by less than an inch, falling onto the floor with a loud clatter. Dilandau followed right behind, dropping to his knees, then falling over as he clutched at his head. Almost immediately, that slender body began to violently convulse and thrash, his spine bending at nearly impossible angles before jackknifing around hard enough to lift him into the air for a moment.

He’d seen a fit exactly like this before, when Dilandau had attacked Gaddes in their bedroom, but even then, it hadn’t been quite so violent as this new display. Bloody foam edged the dragonslayer’s lips as his body continued to convulse like a fish out of water and his gurgling screams filled the room, easily overpowering those of Brand.

“Dilandau!” Van yelled out, struggling against Canteen’s grip, desperate to try to help his companion. The larger man’s arms might as well have been carved out of stone for all the give they had and rock hard biceps tightened in warning, threatening to cut off his blood supply once again. General Tseng simply chuckled in delight, applauding the spine shattering thrashing with enthusiasm.

“A most ingenious lash indeed. Forgive me for doubting your genius Shroden.” The man walked over to the sorcerer and stared down at the twisting form pitilessly. “He will always suffer like this if he attempts to attack you?”

“Indeed.” The sorcerer stated flatly, as if this display was of no consequence, though Van could hear the smug undertones beneath the words and knew the man was enjoying Dilandau’s torment. It wouldn’t surprise the king to know that the sorcerer had purposefully left himself open in order to encourage the attack. He’d taken advantage of Dilandau’s predatory instincts, tricking the youth into revealing his true level of awareness. “This is part of its basic conditioning, one of the first bonds we instilled in its psyche. It cannot raise a hand against an anchor, no matter the situation without suffering immediate consequences. To wilfully attack one will always result in excruciating agony.”

“A most amusing punishment.”

“I do not seek to amuse General. I seek to reinforce its conditioning.” They spoke casually, as if none of the others were there. Only their chosen language gave them away, ensuring that the king could understand their banter with ease. This was a show, all put on for Van’s benefit to ensure that he was fully aware of just how hopeless the situation truly was. Sadly, it was working all too well.

Only a few feet away, Brand continued his death throes though his struggles were ignored by all as he still desperately tried to put himself together and begging for aid with a fading voice. Help was not forthcoming as all eyes remained locked on the torture of the albino teen, leaving Brand’s passing unnoticed.

Casually stepping out of reach of a grasping hand, the general continued to watch Dilandau’s struggles, his small eyes wide with excitement as he studied the suffering dragonslayer, drinking in every gasping cry and lashing limb. A fat tongue slid out from between his lips, licking them in such a way that it reminded Van of a hungry dog.

“Yes, I understand.” He commented, chubby fingers reached up and stroked the edges of his moustache thoughtfully. “This is an effective punishment for raising a hand against his master. Still, I expected more resistance from him considering the stories I’d been told. It’s just a little pain after all. Clearly you should have used something more substantial than some soft astorian girl to create him.” Van felt his blood broil at the dismissive tone the man used. Just a little pain?! Couldn’t he see that Dilandau was in utter agony? That he had no control over his body as it tried to tear itself apart around him? The king was sure that this fat coward had never truly known a day of suffering in his life. If he had, he’d have held more respect for what the zaibach teen was enduring.

At his words, Shroden glanced over at Tseng. The look was subtle, but it spoke of just how little the sorcerer thought of the man for seeing only the most obvious level rather than the true deviousness behind the torture.

“We used only the finest of materials in his creation, ensuring the greatest level of success.” There was just enough edge to his voice to make it clear that the sorcerer wouldn’t simply stand idly by while his masterpiece was slandered. “Surely you have read the reports I’ve provided regarding the Eidolon conditioning process, particularly in regards to subject 35.” He stated coolly before returning his greedy gaze to Dilandau who was now thrashing weakly, his fingers grabbing ineffectively at the floor as his lungs fought for air. If he was conscious, it was only by the barest thread and his screams had been reduced to little more than pained gasps. “Pain means little to a creature such as this. It is nothing more than a side effect as opposed to the goal.” There was a twisted sort of passion to the man’s voice that sent chills down Van’s spine. He sounded as if he was describing a beautiful piece of art rather than the pointed suffering of a living thinking being.

“It is a truly beautiful process. First, the muscles seize, preventing any further attacks and all vital functions shut down momentarily save for the brain. This leaves the subject in a heightened state of awareness, allowing it to fully grasp it’s utter powerlessness.”

The bastard was enjoying this, savouring every agonized gasp and feeble twitch, drinking in the way those crimson eyes stared blankly into nothingness as Dilandau struggled to find something to focus on as his body died around him.

“The seizure is temporary of course, designed to shut down specific pathways in the brain, forcibly altering the flow of various chemicals and neurons. The five senses are deadened to the point of inactivity and a near paralysis follows, rendering the subject barely able to draw air into their lungs. They cannot breathe, cannot scream, cannot even think properly. All nerve function ceases at this point, leaving the brain trapped in a cage of flesh. As far as 35 is concerned, it is floating in the center of a void.”

The general leaned forward and crouched down in front of the now still body of the young warlord, noting the utter lack of reaction to his presence. Dilandau simply lay there, foam flecked lips opening and closing slightly as he struggled to draw enough air into his lungs to stay alive. Unblinking eyes stared up into the darkness of the ceiling, the pupils contracted until they were lost in an ocean of crimson. Curious, Tseng pulled a pin out of one of his medals and pressed it into the pale sweat slicked flesh of the boy’s throat. Though a bright bead of blood welled up from the wound, there was no reaction from Dilandau, not even the faintest of flinches.

“Total sensory deprivation.” Shroden confirmed smugly. “It will remain in this state for as long as I desire, its mind screaming at the bars of it’s cage, utterly powerless.”

“An interesting punishment to be sure.” The general straightened up with a grunt, pinning his medal back into place, ignoring the blood still staining the metal. “Though I fail to see what’s so special about it. Pain is a much better deterrent than ... nothingness. What you described is little more than being locked in a dark room.”

Van felt a surge of overwhelming disgust at the man and his ignorance. How could he not understand the utter horror Dilandau was enduring. It was as if he’d ceased to exist. He’d been cut off from everything that made him real, and for someone as damaged as Dilandau, the effects had to be traumatizing. Tears edged the kings eyes as he stared down at the too still form on the floor. He’d promised to take care of Dilandau, to protect him in the absence of his slayers, but he was just as ineffectual as they’d proven to be.

“Stop this....” He begged the two men. “You’ve proven your point. We won’t fight you! Just stop this, you’re killing him!” As before, he was utterly ignored, his pleas falling on deaf ears, further heightening his feelings of powerlessness. If it hadn't’ been for the still threateningly tight grip on his throat, he’d almost begin to doubt if he was even really present for all the impact he was having on the situation.

“What proof can you give me that your little pet experiment is properly contained?” Tseng continued, speaking over the kings please. “All I’m seeing is a deterrent, a boot to a feral dog. I want you to show me how you’ve collared him, as it were. I’ve seen what this little monster is capable of and while I don’t find him to be nearly as impressive as his legend, I’d rather not take any chances. This experiment is vital to Basram’s plans.”

Shooting the general another barely concealed look of contempt, Shroden gave his long cloak a casual flick to the side, freeing his bony hands from their confines. With precise and predatory movements, he knelt down on the floor next to the eerily still dragonslayer. He didn’t bother speaking, fully aware that his words would fall on deaf ears. Instead, he simply placed his hand on Dilandau’s sweat dampened head.

Van could only stand there helplessly as he watched the disgusting scene unfold in front of him, seeing it as a foul reflection of one he’d already borne witness to back in Astoria. At the time, none of them had understood the sickening ramifications of what they’d seen, nor had they properly understood what Dilandau had just endured. The albino hadn’t mentioned it at all beyond giving them a terse reassurance that he was fine. The young king couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d experienced such vicious punishments in the past and if he’d recognized what had happened to him and simply hidden it from the others.

The king actually flinched the instant that Shroden’s hand made contact. His stomach clenched in disgust as he saw how Dilandau’s body suddenly seemed to come to life. His back arched sharply and he drew in a great lungful of air as his fingers gripped the floor beneath him before sagging into a limp boneless heap, practically melting into the touch.

As those long spidery fingers once again slid through silvery white hair, causing Dilandau to moaned softly. It was a sultry hungry sound that made Van feel like a voyeur to hear; filled with raw animal need and driven by something deeper than instinct. That finely shaped head shifted minutely as Dilandau turned his head into the touch, nuzzling the foul sorcerer’s palm like a blind kitten seeking it’s mothers teat and a shudder of utter ecstasy ran through that slender body. Slender hands then shot up, grabbing onto the thin wrist and clinging to it like a drowning man.

“The pain as I said is negligible.” Shroden continued, his voice dispassionate and cold as he watched the tortured youth drag himself across the floor, trying to bring himself closer, drawn to the heat of his body and the promise of his touch. “What is important is that the link be reestablished. I am its one connection to the world. My touch means not only protection and safety, but life itself. 35 has no choice but to give in to my power. I am its god, and it will worship me as I see fit.”

Those skeletal fingers buried in Dilandau’s hair tightened harshly, but rather than pull away, the dragonslayer moaned again, the sound was low, needy and caused Van to feel acutely aware of how his groin tightened rather uncomfortably at the sound. Shame flooded through him at the thought that his body dared to react to something as sick and depraved as this twisted display of dominance and submission. Sweet gods of Gaea, what was wrong with him?

Unaware of the king’s discomfiture, Shroden continued his lecture, drinking in the power he held over the beautiful pale creature in his hands.

“Of course, with the renewal of awareness and life comes a powerful euphoria. This will encourage the opening of previously long established pathways within the subject’s mind. These will aid in reinforcing it’s subservience, causing it to seek a renewal of the anchor bond in order to hold onto these sensations. The subject becomes immediately tractable and wholly incapable of taking any action against the prospective anchor.” As he spoke, Dilandau whimpered softly, shifting closer to the sorcerer his pale hands looking ghostly as they tightly clutched at the black clad arms, desperate to maintain that physical connection and hold it close.

“Open your eyes 35.” Shroden coldly ordered, and in a heartbeat, crimson eyes stared up into his. All previous defiance was wiped away, leaving only utter devotion shining in their depths. Van could do nothing but moan softly in defeat and horror as he recalled how Dilandau had openly caressed Gaddes shamelessly. It had been the first open showing of physical affection he’d seen between the two of them. The sergeant had thought it was cute at the time and had been charmed by the open and demonstrative display. None of them had even considered that there might have been a much more sinister plan at work in the depths of the pale teenager’s mind.

Canteen’s arm once again tightened again in warning, but Van couldn’t even conceive of running as he stared aghast while Dilandau reverently kissed the hand of the foul sorcerer. The albino had never made an attempt at hiding the utter hatred and revulsion he’d had for his abuser, but looking at him right now, one would never suspect it. There was no defiance or resistance, only pure submission. Judging by the cruel smirk on Shroden’s face, he was pleased with the result of his demonstration.

“On your feet 35!” He barked suddenly, pulling his hand away sharply and standing up straight. Dilandau scrambled to his feet without hesitation, though his body swayed visibly, still in shock from the previous fit. Before he could even straighten fully, the sorcerers hand flew out, slapping the youth hard across the cheek.

Part of Van longed to see the expected explosion of rage at anyone daring to touch Dilandau’s face, but instead, the albino stood there stoically, in fact, he seemed to be almost leaning towards the sorcerer, desperate to be close to him once more.

“You are unarmed and out of uniform!” Shroden snapped, his words causing Dilandau to grow even paler than before. “You are aware of the punishment for these infractions.”

“Of course Master.” It was the first time he’d ever heard Dilandau sound so subservient and contrite, Van almost didn’t even recognize the sound of his voice. Even at his most polite, there’d always been a hidden barb or edge of sarcasm behind the words. This... this wasn’t Dilandau Albatou. This was a broken thing. This was a creature who had been brought up beneath the boot heel of a sadist and it made Van want to scream. He wanted his rival back! He wanted the hot tempered volatile and cruel dragonslayer captain! He wanted the snark, the unapologetic brashness and the overflowing confidence!

He was trembling visibly in his utter outrage as Dilandau slowly removed the belt from his trousers, causing them to sag precariously low on his narrow hips. At first, he thought that Shroden meant to molest him here, in front of all of them and he desperately wanted to turn away. Instead, he watched as Dilandau slowly, reverently held the belt out to the sorcerer and then raised his hands high above his head. There was no hesitation in the actions, no thought behind them or attempt to explain the circumstances. Dilandau simply accepted his imminent punishment with a meekness that no living thing should ever possess.

“General, I believe ten lashes should suffice. I want him functional after all.” Shroden stated with disinterest as he handed the belt to Tseng who took it with undisguised eagerness. “Keep the lashes to his belly and back, do not touch his face or below the waist.”

“Of course, it would be a shame to ruin the merchandise before one can properly appreciate it.” General Tseng laughed knowingly and swung the belt with deadly accuracy.

Van stared aghast as the belt snapped sharply against exposed skin, laving bright red welts in its wake. Several of them quickly beaded with bright drops of blood which slowly made their lazy way down Dilandau’s body, only to be left smeared by the next cruel strike.

Tseng certainly seemed to be familiar with the process as he attacked the most sensitive areas of the dragonslayer’s body, drawing a patchwork of pain which had to be agonizing, but Dilandau didn’t so much as flinch or utter a single sound of distress. In fact, he seemed almost eager for each attack, biting his lip to keep from gasping in pleasure as his sensation starved body drank in any stimulus it could, hoarding the sensations greedily.

Through it all, he continued to stare at Shroden with those desperate to please eyes. There was no doubt that he’d eagerly welcome any sort of atrocity without a single thought of complaint.

“Make note of its reactions General. Pleasure, pain, neither matter so long as there is a physical sensation. It will eagerly accept any abuse so long as it distances it from the nothingness. This also facilitates the Anchor process, rendering the subject most... eager despite any previous connections it might have.”

“A convenient feature all things considered, though there is a certain amount of satisfaction to be had when they fight back.” Tseng chuckled darkly, eyeing the trembling teen with appreciative interest as he gave the boy one final lash, slicing a bright crimson line across Dilandau’s lower belly. Pale lashes fluttered and Dilandau moaned softly at the cessation of the attacks, his eyes wide and pleading as he silently begged his captors to continue.

“He could give my wife a few lessons on self control.” The man chuckled callously. “She screams like a damn banshee then blubbers like a maiden behind enemy lines after the first two hits.” If Dilandau was insulted by this, he gave no sign. He simply remained standing in place, arms still raised above his had, waiting further orders. “I know men who would pay a great deal for a toy with this level of training.”

He walked over to the beaten youth and gently trailed his fingers through the thin lines of blood, grinning widely as Dilandau leaned towards him, whimpering softly in supplication. Any hint of his previous fire and defiance were gone and it made Van sick to witness.

“I don’t suppose I could get you to do a demonstration of this conditioning with say.... a young girl? I could definitely enjoy a bedslave as eager as this.”

“I’m afraid that his conditioning has been a decade long ongoing process. While I have no objections to beginning the process for you, it would take some time which could be better devoted towards our goals. Though if you insist, provide me with a suitable subject and I shall begin the isolation process.” The two discussed the idea of torturing some innocent woman as if it were of no more consequence than the weather and all the while, Dilandau continued to stand there with seemingly limitless patience, waiting for someone to give him an order, eager to earn more sensation for his starved nerves.

“I’ll keep that in mind, there’s a few pretty things I’ve had my eyes on.” He ran his eyes over Dilandau one more time, his smile cruel. “Pity this one’s a boy right now, otherwise he’d be perfect. I don’t suppose there’s a way to turn him back? I was hoping for a sweet little thing to break in.”

Glancing over at him, Shroden looked as if he was about to make some snide comment when he paused and glanced back over at Dilandau. Frowning slightly, he stepped over to the waiting teenager who again leaned towards him, radiating hopeful devotion.

Reaching out a hand, Shroden’s long spidery fingers grabbed the feather necklace and held it up for closer inspection.

“35, where did you acquire this?” He demanded, turning the feather back and forth before running his fingertip along it’s length, noting the crystalline shimmer of colour and the unnatural softness of the barbs. “This is a draconian feather.”

“Yes Master.” Dilandau stated guilelessly, eager to please. “Van gave it to me.” The breathy way he said his name made Van shiver for a moment. He’d never heard his rival say it with such worship and devotion and it made something twist deep inside his body in a way which wasn’t altogether unpleasant. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one to hear it because eyes the colour of cold steel narrowed dangerously and Shroden spun around, releasing the feather before stalking over to Van and grabbing at his own feather necklace, holding it up for inspection.

“Twin feathers... how childishly symbolic.” He sneered softly in Van’s face. “I must admit, I was rather curious as to how he was able to not only resume this form, but unlock his abilities. Tell me King Fanel, did you seduce him like a proper hero? Or simply claim him as a battlefield reward? It must have been lovely having your enemy as your devoted bed slave.” Huh? What? That wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting and really... WHAT!? “At least now that explains how the two of you were working together in such close quarters.”

“I didn’t rape him you sick bastard!” He yelled out, offended beyond belief at the implications. That pleasant warmth in his belly quickly turned sour at the vile sorcerer’s proximity.

“We found them together in the freaks bedroom.” Canteen added in, eager to add something to the conversation. “Drinking wine pretty as you please, all tousled up and the freak half naked.” Aghast at the implications, Van struggled to free himself, desperate to defend his honour.

“The freak was hysterical on the trip here.” Canteen continued, giving Van a sharp jerk backwards followed by a sharp cuff across the head. “The little runt king here managed to calm him down with just a touch. Kept him pretty much quiet for the whole ride. Fed him, watered him, sleeping all curled up with him. The freak even let His Majesty here drug him.”

“I see.” Shroden glanced back at Van and released the feather as if it was something filthy. “So the little slut has found another Anchor to bond with. Convenient for 35 that we can’t kill this one.”

For the first time, Van saw Dilandau flinch slightly at those words, though thankfully no one was paying him any attention and the lapse went unnoticed. Suddenly his slurred words on the leviship made sense. In pretending that Van was his Anchor, Shroden wouldn’t attempt to have Gaddes murdered the way he had with Miguel. Even in the face of the sergeants rejection, Dilandau was acting to protect him. While he wasn’t sure if it was due to the bond itself causing this, or some twisted feelings the teen might have for the older man, he was thankful for his foresight.

As disgusting as it was, Van decided to go along with the ruse, refusing to be the reason for Gaddes’ life to be put in danger.

“This is an unforeseen setback and has the potential to cause conflict with my own orders.” Shroden mused, more to himself than anyone as he stepped back over to Dilandau, idly stroking the paths of the blood drops, painting crimson whorls on alabaster skin. “Still, this could work in our favour.” He smiled cruelly at his compliant toy, then glanced over at Van, assessing them both with his cruel eyes. “They’ll share a cell. It should help 35 retain his awareness throughout the process. If we separate them he’ll most likely become volatile and unpredictable. While it will pose no danger to myself, I will not risk the potential of it slowing down the project beyond acceptable boundaries. Besides...” Shroden looked at Van and his cruel smile grew exponentially more terrifying. “Having this one in our custody will ensure his very best behaviour.”

Gods of Gaea... this just kept getting worse by the minute...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... feel the happiness and fluff. things will be pretty dark for a little while because hey, Shroden and Tseng are sick and evil fucks who really seriously deserve to die!  
> I had a blast trying to come up with what Basram was like and will be expanding on it and several other countries as I go. Yes, they don't all speak the same language on Gaea and I'll be expanding on that and likely also do a few revisions on Dragon in the Ashes as well to clarify this. Astorian is the common trade language though and unless specified, that's what they're speaking seeing as how most people are fluent in it... barring accents. I've been toying with the idea for a while but really want to press the issue seeing as how there will be quite a bit of travel in this book. Also, it makes sense since Fanelian is apparently Portuguese (according to Van's dialogue on the Mystic Moon) and Dornkirk came from England originally, likely heavily influencing the Zaibach language and making it more "civilized".
> 
> Anyway, there will be more explanations regarding Dilandau's conditioning as time goes on. So be ready for more highly questionable science! YAY! 
> 
> Next Chapter: Those left behind search for answers while our doomed duo learn that things can always get worse... so much worse.


	3. The Lies We Tell Ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van and Dilandau attempt to adjust to captivity... with varying results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or the characters, not making monies. Wish I was.  
> So, there's something to be said for writing amidst the sullen yellow glow of the sun being blotted out by smoke while ash falls from the sky. It's rather inspiring in all the worst ways. As such, this isn't a happy chapter. In fact, it's damn dark. Trigger warnings for the first scene in italics as if contains some serious dub con, moving into non con territory though it's not graphic. Granted, if you're reading this, you're not here for fluff and bunnies. ^_^ This chapter underwent so many rewrites that it boggles my mind, but I think it worked out for the best in the end.
> 
> Also, shoutout to my friends and all those dealing with not only the fact that my province is on fire, but the horrible hurricanes tearing apart the Gulf Coast right now. I wish you all the best and Ivorybyrd, I hope you and your family manage to stay safe and dry. Kudo's hugs and all that good stuff. Also, thanks for doing little side crack scenes with me to lighten the mood of this chapter for me. You rock.

 

_“_ _You don’t need to look at this.” Celena’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper as she stood just behind Dilandau, her breath lightly brushing across his ear. “Nothing you do will change what happened, all you’re doing is hurting yourself.”_

_Crimson eyes flickered in her direction for a moment acknowledging her existence though not her words. Words were empty things, easily said and more easily forgotten. What mattered to him were actions. Only those had impact on the world, only those were worth remembering. These actions... he’d forgotten them along with so many others. They’d been wiped from his memory to keep him compliant, buried under uncountable atrocities and pain only to be viciously ripped free by a single act of utter arrogance. Now, the memories bled forth, playing out in front of his eyes and in his horror, he couldn’t turn away._

_“You’re being an idiot.” She murmured, her words harsh though there was still warmth in her tone. A hand gently rested on his shoulder, offering support and stability, reminding him that he was never truly alone in the darkness of his mind._

_“I need to remember.” His voice was little more than a whisper. The strain of his torture evident despite his determination to proceed. “I need to remember how to hate.”_

_Celena chuckled softly at those words. They sounded utterly ludicrous coming from those pale lips._

_“That’s one thing you’ve never had a problem accomplishing and we both know it. Turn away before you see too much.”_

_Snarling at her, he jerked his shoulder away and took a bold step forward, watching the scene play out in front of him, feeling the memories reawakening_ _inside him._

_He looked so shocked standing there in the doorway, his uniform impeccable as always, sword hanging at a precise angle on his hip. His ever present diadem kept his somewhat dishevelled hair in place though it was still damp with the sweat of his previous exertions. Newly unfurling memories reminded him that beneath the pristine uniform, his skin had felt tacky and itchy. He’d donned it quickly, before he could properly shower and was now regretting it. Of course, that hadn’t mattered now seeing as how a fresh layer of sweat was currently drenching his flesh as he stared at those two shining circles of glass in the darkness._

_“Please look away.” Celena whispered again. “You don’t really want to remember this... and neither do I.” He could feel her shiver in dread, trying to pull him back with the power of her will alone but inevitably fail. He was still the stronger of the two. He always had been._

_The circles seemed to float in the darkness, flowing closer to the memory Dilandau who stood there frozen in shock, unable to so much as blink, much like a mouse caught in a serpent’s gaze._ _He was unprepared mentally and physically for this confrontation. That bastard Folken hadn’t warned him at all, merely summoning him to this section of his labs, a section previously off limits and securely barred from any curious Dagonslayer captains. Still, upon entering said lab, he’d had the uncanny feeling of coming here before, many times in fact, and accompanying that sensation was a strange sickening dread._

_He’d thought he’d be meeting the Strategos, perhaps to be shown some new experimental system he’d developed or be handed some new tool to use on a mission. He’d even held out the private hope that the dour man had simply wanted to lecture him on some infraction or other, perhaps figuring that being surrounded by pickled remains of various creatures would put him off balance._

_Nothing in his summons had hinted at Madoushi... this one in particular._

_Lights flickered into being, illuminating the room and all of its ghastly tools, specifically the cold metal table cut perfectly to fit someone of Dilandau’s shape and size. The leather and metal restraints glittered ominously in the icy harsh lights,_ _waiting patiently for him._

_Dilandau shivered, wanting desperately to look away, to scream at his memory counterpart to run while he could, to draw his damn sword and attack, anything but stand there like some vapid idiot._

_“Please...” Celena whispered again, her voice pleading shamelessly and trembling in her terror. “This won’t help you.”_

_“I need to know what happened.” He snapped at her, his own eyes torn between staring at the near endless array of sharp tipped syringes, tubes, and probes,_ _or the looming figure of the Madoushi... his Master who now stood revealed like some childhood demon. In the end, his Master won out as he always did. The mere presence of the man was enough to make Dilandau moan softly, torn between terror and desire._

_“Enter.” A long fingered, nearly skeletal hand reached out from the depths of the long black cloak, beckoning the memory version of himself forward and like a fool, the armour clad warlord obeyed without hesitation. The compulsion_ _was_ _so strong that even Dilandau himself found that he’d taken two steps towards the man before realizing that the order had not been aimed at him. Drawing himself to a stop, the pale youth drew in a deep shuddering breath._

_Memory Dilandau took several steps into the room then knelt gracefully_ _at the feet of his Master. Head bowed, body vulnerable, it made the Dragonslayer sick to see, reminding him vividly of the subservience of his own men._ _They’d cowered so deliciously for him and it had always made him feel so strong and powerful. Now... seeing this foul parody of their devotion was simply sickening._

_“_ _Look at me 35.” The man’s oily voice flowed through the room, soiling everything it touched. Both versions of Dilandau couldn’t help but shiver at the sound like a whipped dog at the feet of their owner. Like said dog, the albino youth_ _obediently_ _raised his head, looking up at those two flat shining circles of glass. His limbs trembled with the effort of holding himself in that ignoble position, but he did so without complaint. “So this is the face of a traitor.”_

_“_ _Traitor? Master, I-”_

_“Silenc_ _e._ _I have not given you permission to speak.” The_ _voice was cold as ice as it_ _cut short his protests._ _T_ _he fierce and feared captain of Zaibach’s most ruthless_ _unit_ _flinched visibly as if slapped. “_ _Why should I allow a thing such as yourself a voice after_ _it has_ _dared to defy me?” Never once was the voice raised beyond a conversational level, making it all the_ _more_ _menacing for it’s detachment._ _As always, it reminded Dilandau that he was nothing in the eyes of his creator. Simply a tool, a test subject, a thing to be studied, tested and then inevitably cast aside when it ceased to produce the desired results._

_Dilandau saw the confusion on his counterparts face as the boy tried to understand the reasoning behind the harsh accusations. Traitor? He was many things, but his loyalty had never been called into question. The Empire was his heart and soul. It had given him life, given him a sword and a guymelef then set him free. How could he not worship the unstoppable might of Zaibach and it’s Emperor?_

_“_ _Bad enough that you come to me filthy_ _and used;_ _your uniform in disarray_ _while_ _your lover’s seed leak_ _s_ _down your leg_ _as if you were some common whore_ _._ _Now you dare to question me? Do you see us as equals? Do you see yourself as being worthy of a voice?” Contempt dripped from every word and the memory version of himself winced visibly, crimson eyes growing wide at the accusations._

_“_ _Asshole_ _.” Dilandau muttered more to himself than Celena. “My uniform is perfectly presentable_ _and this was my rest period. If I wanted to fuck Miguel in the privacy of my room, I was well within my rights to do so.”_

_“You said yourself that words were cheap.” The young girl murmured softly, leaning her back against his. Thought she refused to watch the spectacle unfold, she still_ _was unwilling_ _to abandon him to this nightmare. “He’s up to something, and it’s terrible.” He could feel her shudder violently as she rubbed her arms, attempting to fight off the growing chill of the room_

_“Clearly you’ve_ _grown soft and spoiled here. You seem to have forgotten all of the lessons we so painstakingly instilled in you.” The threat was clear despite the emotionless words and Dilandau felt his stomach churning in horror at the implications. “_ _Perhaps it would be best for my experiment if you were returned for reprogramming.”_

_That sick feeling grew stronger and Dilandau felt his knees tremble as he struggled not to step forward and promise his Master anything in order to_ _end his anger_ _._ _It wasn’t the threat of reprogramming that filled him with dread, it was disappointing this living god. His Masters desire meant everything to him and the idea of failing him, even in some small unforeseen way was almost more than he could handle._

_Behind him, Celena sighed loudly and let her head loll back, resting it on his shoulder for a moment. The weight was strangely comforting._

_“You’re more worried about making that psychopath upset than having him scramble our brains again?” She asked, sounding utterly unbelieving_ _of the sheer ludicrousness of the situation. “You are so screwed up in the head.”_

_“You don’t understand...” Dilandau murmured, watching with a strange mix of revulsion and jealousy twisting inside his guts as his memory self abased himself at the feet of their Master, eager to prove his loyalty._

_“You’re right, I don’t, and I don’t want to. This is sick, utterly sick and you know that now.” She shuddered at the sound of leather armour being unfastened and hitting the floor, discarded and forgotten. “This isn’t love, it’s not even lust. This is control pure and simple.”_ _He couldn’t argue that, the words rang clear with truth._ _R_ _ather than refute them, he simply watched the proceedings pretending that he couldn’t_ _hear her sobbing softly over the sounds of flesh pressing against flesh intermingled with desperate whimpers and gasps. His own_ _body_ _began stirring to attention, wishing that it was him writhing beneath his Master, begging him for more and drinking in that oh so rare moment where everything was_ _made_ _whole inside himself. The screams would grow silent, his nerves would burn and he’d hold onto that glorious feeling of being joined with another and no longer so horribly alone._

_“It doesn’t matter.” He_ _finally_ _replied dully, watching the undulating bodies. “He’s the only one who never rejected me, never cast me aside. Maybe he’s right and I do belong to him.”_

_Surprisingly strong hands grabbed him from behind and spun him around until he was face to face with burning azure eyes, the same shade as Schezar’s. Celena glared at him unblinkingly, crystalline tears edged her_ _pale lashes_ _as she wept for the both of them, but that in no way dulled the bite of her anger as she leaned forward, until she was nose to nose with the warlord._

_“That’s a lie and you know it!” She snarled with sudden ferocity. “What about the one you called your Sun? What about Miguel? Neither of them ever even thought of rejecting you. They loved you!”_

_“I MURDERED THEM!” He screamed back at her, his own fury rising to match hers. “Look what their love got them! I carved my beautiful Sun into pieces so small I couldn’t even tell what part of him they belonged to! I looked into his eyes as I cut him apart because my Master told me to! How is that love? How does that make me worthy of anything but the fate I was given? As for Miguel, I abandoned him! I pulled the Dragonslayers back and let them take him prisoner. I put that damn_ _doppelganger_ _into position, I let Folken’s plans play out like the ignorant fool I was and I lost him!” He gestured violently towards the foul coupling taking place behind them, his memories showing him clearly what was taking place in excruciating detail whether he watched or not._

_“This is all I deserve! I’m a demon and I even have the wings to prove it. All this memory is showing me is what I already know. That I don’t deserve to aim any higher and should be happy with what I am. I’_ _m a monster. I b_ _ring death_ _and chaos_ _Celena._ _It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”_

_“_ _What you are is_ _an over emotional and melodramatic idiot!” Celena refused to back down. “There is a whole world out there filled with possibilities and you would turn your back on it because some disgusting pedophile convinced you that he’s the only one to see your worth. Jeture, even now you want to be with him!” She shook her head in disgust, her hands clenched into tight fists as her side. For several long moments, the two glared at each other, azure versus ruby with neither giving ground._

_“You’re so much better than that Dilandau.” It was Celena who reached out first, lifting up a slender hand and gently cupping Dilandau’s uninjured cheek. “_ _Think about what’s happening out there.” With her free hand she gestured above their heads into the darkness above them. “He’d hurting you, using you...trying to prove to you that you belong to him.” Those jewel bright eyes narrowed, never once breaking their stare. “Now ask yourself why?”_

_He opened his mouth to snap at her but no sound passed his lips. Instead, he blinked in realization and spun around to face the couple, studying the intent behind the actions._

_Watching with a dispassionate eye, he knew that Shroden wasn’t the most creative of lovers, but then again, he didn’t have to be when he could bring Dilandau to completion with a simple touch if that was his desire. The man preferred to drag it out, enjoying the absolute mastery he held over the pale youth._

_Even now, he had Dilandau spread out on the table, too far lost in the sensations to realize_ _that his hands had been trapped by the restraints. Though he shrieked when_ _the first needle was driven into his neck,_ _he still didn’t fight back_ _. At that point, it was simply just another level of_ _stimulus. The second needle elicited the same lack of re_ _taliation_ _, though he could tell that Shroden was nearing his completion judging by the growing speed and desperation in his thrusts._

_A simple flick of a switch turned the machinery around them on without even breaking the man’s rhythm, but beneath him, he could see_ _the_ _awareness_ _of pain_ _enter into his memory self’s eyes. The foul energy of the machine_ _hurt him even though he knew that this was nothing but a memory._ _Phantom a_ _cid_ _slid beneath_ _his skin, causing a maddening itch that made him want to claw and tear at his skin ruthlessly._ _It got into the very marrow of his bones and seemed to twist and break them into new configurations until he was convinced that his body had been put together wrong and was_ _fighting to regain it’s proper shape. It certainly didn’t make him feel any better knowing now just how accurate that feeling actually was._

_With growing unease, he watched_ _the chemicals stop pouring into him. The machine clicked and hummed ominously as it began to reverse the procedure. Now_ _bright crimson blood,_ _saturated with the strange chemicals was d_ _rawn from his body_ _through the needles into various tubes which led into a rather large cylinder filled with a strange rose liquid. It bubbled ominously as the darker heavier_ _blood_ _flowed into it and as the two liquids mixed, they began to emit a brilliant sparkling glow._

_“_ _What does that do?” Celena asked, her voice breathless with horror as she tucked herself up against Dilandau, trusting him to protect her from the strange device._

_Having grown up around such machinery all his life, he had little trouble divining it’s purpose, especially with newly awakened memories helping him along._

_“_ _The chemicals he injected me with is called_ _Varamium142. It agitates the fate particles in the blood, making them more volatile and causes them to multiply_ _exponentially_ _for a brief period. On_ _c_ _e my blood is saturated with it, he begins drawing it all out.”_ _He explained, his voice toneless and flat as he glared at the hated machine. Just looking at it made him want to scratch at the faint puckered scars on either side of his throat. There was a matching pair on the back of his neck as well as lower down his spine from when his Master had wanted spinal fluid samples. “That machine is filled with a_ _chemical simply called 035, an artificially created_ _fluid_ _in which dragenergist is a prime component. The active energist separates_ _the fate particles in my blood,_ _causing them to be drawn together into a tangible substance while scrubbing my blood_ _clean. Master... Shroden calls it “harvesting.” As if I were some damn plant on a farm.” Dilandau sneered slightly though not even he could repress a shudder of horror at seeing the process from this new vantage point. It was agonizing having_ _that vile chemical cocktail poured into his body and nearly as bad to have to lay there as_ _his blood_ _was_ _quickly drained before the chemical lost it’s potency. The speed always left him_ _feeling_ _as if his_ _veins_ _were_ _threatening to collapse a_ _nd_ _the world began to spin around him._

_“_ _035... isn’t that what he called you?” She didn’t sound like she really wanted to know the answer, but he chose to tell her anyway. He might care for and need Celena, but he was still a sadist at heart._

_“Yes. It was as much me as my body in his eyes. We were one and the same so he saw little point in differentiating between the two.” His Master had always been rather expert at dehumanizing him, it was almost beautiful really._

_“He said that I produced so m_ _any fate particles that they HAD to harvest them. That if they_ _didn’t, I’d grow unstable like the others...” Countless images of dying children flickered through his mind and he remembered how grateful he’d always been that his Master had cared enough to take such good care of him. “Once the blood_ _has been harvested,_ _it’s pumped back in through the other needle, though they’ll drain me several times a session, just to make sure they get everything.”_

_He’d always felt so sick and exhausted after a “harvest”, though he’d never remembered the process before now._ _It had always been shrouded behind a thick mental haze in his head, one which he’d never been able to penetrate despite his best efforts._ _At least Folken’s drinks had always made him feel_ _somewhat_ _better. The damn things were likely full of vitamins and iron supplements to keep him from passing out after having his life ripped out of him over and over again._

_“That’s... that’s horrible!” Celena gasped out, staring at the now brightly glowing cylinder with ever growing revulsion. “_ _How often did they do that to you?”_

_It wasn’t hard to calculate the blank patches in his memory which were followed by being offered Folken’s wonder drinks. The bastard and known what was being done on his own ship! Folken could have stopped them, could have protected him_ _or at least given him some sort of warning_ _! Instead, he’d lured him into this room over and over again, taking advantage of Dilandau’s selective amnesia to make the task so much easier._

_“Once a colour at least.” He murmured, trying not to think about how_ _many of_ _the Madoushi had also taken advantage of his memory lapses to indulge in some of their more vile urges. It hadn’t always been his Master, but he’d been too thoroughly trained to obey the cloaked scientists to even think about defiance._

_Next to him, Celena grit her teeth and blinked tears from her eyes_ _as she shared his burgeoning memories._

_“Do you wish to prove your loyalty to me?” Shroden asked,_ _drawing their attention back to the assault taking place as the man_ _suddenly_ _grew_ _still, leaving memory Dilandau balancing on that knife edge of ecstasy_ _and agony_ _. The bound boy cried out in thwarted need, his hips straining to arch up against his tormentor while the rest of his body trembled_ _against its bonds_ _. Through it all, Shroden studied him with those cold reptilian eyes, his voice though somewhat strained still held that unwavering control. “Do you wish to make me proud again; my lovely Eidolon?”_

_“Yes!” The pal_ _e_ _slender body bucked and writhed, willing to agree to anything in order to experience that glorious clash of sensations which were poised ready to tear him apart. Fevered eyes stared into his Master’s,_ _shining with unquestioned devotion._ _“_ _Tell me what you wish Master, please don’t stop!”_

_Those long bony fingers tangled themselves in sweaty snow white locks of hair and twisted viciously, tilting Dilandau’s head back sharply and exposing his throat. A cold possessive grin split the man’s face nearly in two as the boy’s body arched once again, pressing against him, welcoming his every touch and begging for more. Shroden was clearly savouring the moment and something dark and vicious passed over his face, causing The real Dilandau’s breath to be sucked in loudly in shock._

_He’d never seen such an expression on his Master’s face. The man had always been as_ _de_ _void of emotion as Folken. Cold and passionless, just like the machines he surrounded himself with. In the decade that Dilandau had known him, he’d never seen anything more than the faintest of smiles grace those thin cruel lips._

_“I want you to take the life of your lover.” He whispered into the boy’s ear and_ _the desperate gyrations ceased immediately as that slender body stiffened in shock. Hardly daunted by the reaction, the foul Madoushi continued to speak, his own hips resuming a slow and calculated thrust with every word._ _“I want you to look into his pretty grey eyes then slit his throat._ _It’s a simple enough order is it not?_ _” The boy was trembling now_ _as Dilandau stared on in shock. Both of their breathes came in_ _quick short gasps as_ _two sets of crimson yes grew wide._

_“No... oh sweet Fate... no. Don’t order me to do it... not again...” Dilandau moaned softly, his fingers tangling in his hair, mirroring the grip Shroden held on his counterpart. “I can’t do it again... not Miguel.” Again, Celena rested her hand on his shoulder, then slid it up the back of his neck and gently began stroking his fingers, trying to get them to loosen their grip._

_“Shh... you didn’t kill him. We both know this.”_

_“Our memories... we can’t trust them. How do I know I didn’t do it? Please not him!”_

_“M.. Master?”_ _The trembling youth on the table struggled to form the words. His voice shook with strain and for the first time since this travesty began, he struggled to free himself, seeming to finally realize the position he was in. “_ _He’s..._ _he’s_ _nothing... just a plaything.”_ _Dilandau could see panic building behind those crimson eyes and he could easily remember how loud the screaming inside his skull had grown. He’d have rather killed himself than his lover. Less than an hour ago, they’d held each other in their arms and promised to always be there for each other. He’d felt so safe, so loved that nothing else in the world had mattered beyond their warm embrace._

_“Then you should have no problem in bringing me his head. I wish it within the hour.”_ _Shroden purred, his body moving more forcefully, drawing pleasure from the boy’s struggles._

_Around them all, the machines which lined the walls began to beep loudly, several lights flashed as readouts flickered across the various screens_ _while_ _defiance flared in the depths of the bound boy’s eyes. A flicker of purplish red light the colour of energist flared to life,_ _quickly swallowing his dark pupils before bleeding into the iris’, staining them with thei_ _r_ _brilliant glow._

_Dilandau had never actually seen his eyes do that before, but Gaddes had told him that they were both beautiful and utterly terrifying. They were so alien and passion filled. The eyes of a demon consumed by fury. Plump lips pulled back to reveal sharp even teeth and the boys struggles doubled as he drew in breath to scream out his denial._

_“NO!” His voice was so loud that it echoed off of the walls. There was a tactile feel to it which grew with each reverberation until the air around them was saturated with power, causing everyone’s hair to nearly stand on end._

_For a moment, Shroden looked utterly shocked at the defiance. Never before had Dilandau denied him anything. Whatever atrocity or indignity he’d commanded, the albino youth had hastened to obey in his absolute desperation to please. The man clearly hadn’t expected this utter defiance, but that didn’t stop him for long._

_Always the scientist, those cold eyes noticed the level of readings he was gaining._ _B_ _lood continued to be drawn,_ _shining now with power and when it reached the chemical filled cylinder, the room burst with brilliant light as the powerful particles further energized those already harvested._ _The more upset the boy grew, the brighter the glow_ _and soon it was nearly blinding._

_Dilandau could see the moment the connection was made in Shroden’s eyes and he bit back a groan, his mind already realizing what was going to happen even as his idiot former self continued to scream out his defiance._

_“I won’t hurt Miguel you bastards! He’s mine! I’ll kill you if you so much as touch him!”_

_“Shut up you idiot.” Dilandau murmured to his younger self, barely able to believe that he was letting himself be played so thoroughly._

_“He knew about the bond.” Celena stated more for her own benefit than his. “Folken said in that file that he’d seen you two together and realized what had happened... He knew you couldn’t harm Miguel so he’s only saying this to upset you isn’t he?”_

_“Yeah...” Dilandau growled through gritted teeth. “The bastard.”_

_“_ _Such traitorous thoughts.” Shroden all but purred, pleased at the success of his_ _experiment_ _. “You will of course be disciplined for daring to speak back to me. Yes, reprogramming is clearly in order.” His smile grew wider and far crueller as he drank in the pinned boy’s growing distress. “But first, seeing as you had to play the whore and get yourself bonded to that vile little mongrel, I will have Folken murder him instead.” Those cruel fingers traced along Dilandau’s jaw, tracing the line of the scar over and over again as if highlighting the mark of failure. “Then, before his body is even cold, you’ll be spreading your legs for his murderer and letting him claim you. Afterwards, you’ll be his eager little slave as you should have been from the beginning.” Any further words were halted as the man reached his climax. His voice hitched as he gasped several times and his body shuddered against the still shrieking youth._

_The glowing cylinder flared as he’d stated his plans, the overflow of fate particles surging so strongly that Dilandau could see the glass threatening to warp and crack as it struggled to contain it’s bounty._

_For several long moments, he simply lay there panting, likely revelling in having reestablished his power over the youth, but also in discovering a new way to increase his harvest._

_Furious beyond words, Dilandau strode forward, ready to throttle to man with his bare hands for daring to threaten Miguel, but a warning flare of agony in his head quickly reminded him of the futility of the action. All he could do was stand there uselessly as his memory self struggled to keep from sobbing, knowing that his lover was doomed and being powerless to stop it._

_“_ _How does that sound my pet?”_ _Shroden smiled as he pulled away from the trembling body, sated in more ways than one. “You will be mine and only mine forever. I will kill each and every_ _soul_ _you dare to feel more than a moment’s fleeting pleasure for.”_

_“I’ll kill you you bastard.” The memory had hissed, clinging desperately to his rage. “I hate you.”_

_The finger stroking the scar dug into the sensitive skin, darkening the damaged tissue until it grew to a deep red._

_“Convenient then that I don’t require your love nor your consent.” Shroden allowed himself a smug chuckle of victory, hardly worried about the boy’s impotent wrath. “All I_ _desire_ _is your obedience and your... enthusiastic participation.”_ _Those skeletal hands then slid from the scared cheek, down his throat and along his chest, causing the tormented boy to cry out once more, defeat tinging the youthful voice._

_“Now then,” His hands_ _dropped further still until they_ _gripped the boys straining flesh, stroking it with the skill borne of long familiarity. “Tell me how thankful you are that I’m taking such good care of you.” Dilandau watched his bound counterpart struggle to hold onto that hatred, but a lifetime of conditioning couldn’t be ignored, and at that skilled touch, the defiance bled away, leaving only abject misery and desperate need._

_“I’m so thankful Master. You take such wonderful care of me.”_

_The foul Madoushi leaned forward to claim his mouth as the fate particles danced away merrily behind them._

 

 

With a sated sigh, Dilandau sagged into the mattress of the bed and stretched like a spoiled cat, a faint smile playing about his lips. Everything tingled deliciously and he revelled in the feeling of well being. It had been too long since anyone had touched him properly and as far as he was concerned, a week of abstinence simply wasn’t healthy for someone his age. No wonder he felt so revitalized and refreshed. It was like water to a man dying of thirst in a desert. Delicious gloriously wet water sliding over his skin and down his throat, surrounding every inch of his body... hmm he really needed a bath.

It didn’t really matter that his Master had bathed him rather thoroughly half an hour ago, he was all gross and tacky now and nothing was more disgusting than the feel of sweat drying on his skin. Even worse, the sheets were wet and clinging to him which was utterly intolerable as far as he was concerned.

Allowing himself another delicious stretch, the albino sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, wishing that it didn’t curl so much when it was damp. Honestly, it wasn’t dignified in the least and he’d kill for his diadem right about now, at least it helped keep it all under control and out of his face.

“You have performed well 35.” The voice caused a delightful chill to race down his spine and a smile spread across his lips at the precious compliment. “It is good to see that your time running wild has not caused your... skills to fade.”

“I live to serve you Master.” He replied, the reverence radiating from him as he turned to stare at his living god. “My only wish is to please you.” The flattering words flowed easily from his lips and he leaned forward slightly, eager to close the gap between their bodies, loathing the idea of not being in physical contact with the glorious Madoushi. Perhaps if he flattered him enough they could have sex again. The thought made him shiver in anticipation as he drew closer, wanting to feel those wonderfully cool hands on his body, needing it with ever growing desire.

Those strong fingers grabbed his jaw with bruising force, tilting his head sharply so that his Master could stare deeply into his eyes. The grip was uncomfortable, but he made no effort to pull away or make any sound of rejection. All that mattered was his Master was touching him, testing him for weakness and he wouldn’t disappoint the man.

“Your obedience pleases me 35.” The iron grip didn’t loosen, but Dilandau didn’t care so long as those cold grey eyes stared into his and he did his best to project that adoration with every fibre of his being. He had to please his Master, if he didn’t... No, he couldn’t think about that. Things that failed to please his Master were useless, and Zaibach didn’t waste it’s time on useless things.

“Tell me again, who is your Master?”

“You are. Now and forever Master.” Dilandau sighed contentedly. “Without you I am nothing.”

“Exactly, never forget that 35.” The warning was as clear as it was unnecessary. The contented albino couldn’t even bring himself to comprehend an existence without this incredible man to command him. It would be easier to live without air than his brilliant lord and he did his best to show the man this glorious truth with his hands, his mouth, his entire body. Perhaps a bath wasn’t quite as necessary yet as he’d thought.

 

 

Van lay curled up in the small cell doing his best to forget that the past four hours had even happened. Never in his life had he been treated so vilely and his entire body shook from barely restrained rage. Since that disgusting sorcerer had led a suddenly meek and complacent Dilandau away, Van had been stripped down to his skin, forced to endure several cold showers which stank of disgusting chemicals best not contemplated and examined from every angle like some overpriced antique. At first he’d been terrified of enduring the same treatment he knew Dilandau was most likely receiving, but the men handling him were so cold and indifferent that they might as well have been machines from Zaibach rather than living breathing people. They made no attempt to speak to him, choosing instead to push him along with long energist tipped sticks which stung sharply when they came in contact with his skin.

They took samples of his skin, his hair and even his spit. Storing them all in an assortment of small vials covered in strange writing. It took several large men to pin him down long enough to draw a blood sample, but in the end, after his week long period of captivity, Van simply didn’t have the energy to fight them for long.

None of this made any sense. Why would they need these things? What were their plans for him and where in Gaea’s name was Dilandau? He’d tried asking them, cajoling them and finally ranting at them and their indignities, but nothing made them so much as bat an eye. Answering his questions seemed to be far beyond anything they felt like doing. They didn’t even act as if they heard him or understood his language even though he’d done his best to stumble through several basic Basrami words.

By the time they were done jotting down the location of every birthmark, scar and skin imperfection, he truly did feel utterly dehumanized and barely even fought them when they prodded him into a huge cavernous room filled with cages of all shapes and sizes. It was almost like Zaibach’s little bird cages, only taken to a much larger level. As with the hangar, a huge crimson flag of the nation hung against each wall, reminding all of the rooms inhabitants of who their suffering was supporting.

The smell hit him like a wall, reminding him that for all of Zaibach’s horrors, they’d always been big proponents of hygiene. Even their cells had been spotless. Here, it was not so much the case. One sniff was enough to make him take shallow breaths through his mouth in an effort to ward off the smell, though it was so thick that he could even taste it on his tongue. It was the combined reek of too many people in too small a space. There was the stink of sickness and despair, of unwashed skin and beneath all of that, a chemical reek which seemed to permeate everything.

One glance at the nearest cages made him longingly wish to be suspended over a pit in Zaibach once again. They were all uncomfortably small, allowing little room for free movement inside. Most seemed to hold a small cot, a bucket for waste and little else, though several didn’t even sport those luxuries and simply had a hole in the floor for waste. The walls and ceiling were simply metal bars, allowing the occupants to be observed from all angles without any privacy at all. Someone had even installed catwalks up above so that researchers could observe from on high without having to look their subjects in the eyes. This seemed to be a popular perch as he could see many dark clad figures moving back and forth on them, observing the suffering below with uncaring eyes.

As they walked, Van noticed that the inhabitants within the cells were all human. Tired, worn, and scared, they seemed to come from all corners of Gaea. To his left was a pale and drawn astorian woman, barely out of her teens. Her golden hair had been shorn down to her scalp and one of her slender arms was grey and withered, the limb practically mummified by some cruel mishap. The fingers were little more than gnarled claws, useless for anything requiring any sort of manual dexterity. Her other hand was missing entirely, it was simply a rounded stump, sewn shut on the end. The stitches appeared to be relatively recent.

Next to her cell was a Fanelian man sitting on his cot and starring listlessly into the adjacent cell. His normally swarthy skin had paled somewhat from lack of sunlight but his tan skin and eyes were unmistakable. A veritable patchwork of scars covered his body, each one far too neat and precise to be from battle. They reminded him of the barely seen scars which covered Dilandau’s body and Van could just imagine what had been done to the man.

Though Van didn’t recognize his countryman, he still strained against his captors to try to move closer, opening his mouth to call out. The instant he drew close to the bars, the man inside burst into motion. Dark skinned lips opened wide, far wider than should have been possible, displaying sharp almost animal teeth and a horrifying shriek tore itself from the man’s mouth. He slammed himself against the bars, his hands lashing out wildly as he attempted to grab a hold of his monarch with clawed tipped fingers.

With the man’s head now pressed against the bars, Van could see that only one half of his face was human. The other half was...well, decidedly not. There was no symmetry between the two halves, lending a lopsided appearance as the jaw on his left side was longer and heavier, with thick nubs of horn bursting through the skin. His ear was nonexistent and the skin grew heavily mottled with thick scaly growths which practically obscured his eye. This was likely a good thing seeing as how the eye itself bulged unnaturally and was so horrifically bloodshot that it was practically crimson. A thick pus oozed from his tear ducts, staining the skin along is cheeks a foul looking brown.

Scrambling backwards in horror, Van actually bumped into the guards who’s strong hands clamped down on his shoulders, holding him still while the other man jabbed his energist tipped baton between the bars to strike the deformed man, driving him back to his cot where he quickly settled.

Shocked and horrified, it took several sharp shakes to reorient himself and get him moving once again, though this time, he kept well away from the bars of the cages.

It was an endless nightmarish parade and every cage revealed some new twisted victim of the Madoushi’s experiments. A tanned freidian, his body covered in religious tattooos thrashed and screamed against his bonds as a thin man in black robes drew blood from him, placing what looked like an endless supply of samples on a small portable table next to him. A large Zaibachi woman, her arms thick with atrophied muscles panted and moaned, her pale body drenched in sweat as bloody froth edged her lips and she muttered incessantly in the harsh language of her country. A Basram scientist stood over her, calmly jotting down observations of her suffering before injecting her with some sort of blue liquid.

To his right were a pair of dark skinned Egzardian twins, both their bellies swollen with pregnancy despite their thin limbs and haunted eyes. They were both bound to their beds, their wrists and ankles reddened from previous struggles and long tubes had been inserted into their mouths and nether regions.

Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he felt each horror cut deeply into his heart and soul. There were too many to count, too many to even be able to distinguish in this vile kaleidoscope of suffering. Never before had he ever even imagined horror on this scale. It was enough to drive a man mad and Van vowed that before this was over, he would see this vile fortress burned to the ground and its inhabitants granted what peace he could give them.

The thought kept him going, putting one foot in front of the other, believing that things couldn’t get worse. Experience should have taught him otherwise because then he caught sight of the beastkin.

They were kept separate from the humans by a hallway and if anything, the stink grew even worse here. Unlike their human counterparts who generally had their cells to themselves, the beastkin were packed tightly into any available space. He saw five of the wolf clan crammed into one small cell, their fur was falling out in clumps and several scratched incessantly at raw wounds on their exposed skin. Three of the wolves were missing their eyes, their lids sewn shut with thick threads which were covered in a yellow crusty substance. Another who lay on the bed had a tube coming out of their stomach , the end of which disappeared into the floor.

Next to them were three dolphinkin. Their skin was bone dry and cracking, several of those cracks oozed with infection though a few of the worst had received basic medical treatment. One of them had huge patches of skin removed while another was missing both his arms and legs, leaving him little more than a horribly aware torso. Tubes pierced his body in several places, pumping him full of unknown fluids. The third lay there on the floor, pale and unnervingly still.

He saw various cat clan, the tips of their fingers and toes removed. Several bore bones which had been broken and allowed to heal badly, crippling them for life. They all lay there listless, quietly waiting for death to end their suffering and to Van’s horror, several of the females here were pregnant as well. One of them wailed softly as she scratched at her heavily rounded belly with blunted fingertips, trying to claw her offspring out of her body. No one moved to stop her.

There were huge bearkin, small otterkin, even one of the rare serpent people from south of Freid. All looked as if death would be a blessing to them and Van’s heart went out to each and every one of them.

Reaching the end of the nightmarish cell walk, which Van was now positive had been done just to further demoralize him, they reached a wall with a single large door. There were four guards stationed around it, bearing more of those energist tipped staves. All of their faces were obscured by face masks and Van wasn’t sure if it was to protect them from the stink, physical attacks or simply to provide anonymity. He doubted the latter, no one here seemed the least bit ashamed of their involvement in this inhumanity.

At their approach, the guards turned to face them, weapons held at the ready and Van shivered deep inside. These men weren’t slouches. They were alert and held those weapons with confidence. Getting past them wasn’t going to be easy when he made his escape attempt.

On of the guards next to Van barked out a series of words as he held out a piece of thick paper. This was carefully examined by the masked guard before being signed and handed back with brusque efficiency. Another guard tapped a wall panel next to the door, typing in some sort of code that Van couldn’t make out and the door hissed open. Another sharp prod sent the king moving forward once more. Wherever he was going, he desperately hoped it wasn’t worse than where he currently was.

There were more cells here, though they were varied in size and design, which made sense because the creatures within weren’t even remotely human in origin. The first cell they passed was glass, though it was also lined with a wire mesh which glowed ominously with energy. Inside, seated on the floor was the thin long limbed form of a doppelganger. Though he’d never seen on in person... at least not in it’s natural form, he’d heard enough stories to recognize the alien race. He also knew that this one wasn’t doing well. It’s pale striped form looked almost grey and was even thinner than he thought was healthy. It’s ribs stood out prominently above a sunken stomach and it’s gaunt face seemed to make those bulbous eyes stand out even more. The creature bore several surgical scars along it’s body and large patches of skin were missing. A metal gag surrounded the creatures mouth, preventing it from opening it’s jaws, likely to keep it from sucking the life energy out of anyone and escaping.

There was another glass tank with two merpeople, one male, the other female. She swam with halfhearted swishes of her tail, not moving overly quickly seeing as how the delicate fins were missing, leaving ragged scraps of flesh in their place. She was chewing on the belly of a still twitching fish, scraps of flesh floating in the air around her and catching in her wild and ragged hair. She glared at the guards as they walked past and Van saw hate filled madness in their depths. In contrast, the male lay on the floor of the tank, a device covered one side of his neck, pumping something into his gills. Nothing restrained him, but no effort was made to remove the device. Instead he simply lay there, his dull scaled tail twitching spasticly every once in a while, proving that he still lived.

The next cage was by far the largest and as they approached, he heard a familiar bone chilling hiss which froze him in his tracks. He knew that sound! It haunted his dreams constantly since that fateful hunt which had crossed his path with Hitomi’s so long ago. A land dragon!.

Large yellow eyes glared at him from the pile of scales all curled up tightly around itself and the creature hissed once again loudly, tracking his movements. Little larger than a small pony, the creature was obviously a hatchling, hardly more than a decade old and still heavily dependant on its parents for protection.

At their approach, the dragon burst into motion, throwing itself at the bars with wild fury of snapping fangs and slashing claws. It’s shrieks were deafening and Van couldn’t help but wince at the sound.

As with the madman before, the guards moved quickly, hitting it with the tips of their poles in order to drive it back into submission, but a land dragon was made from far sterner stuff than human flesh, and those powerful jaws snapped at the poles savagely, trying to wrench them from their owners grasp. One of the guards was sent flying as the dragon succeeded in capturing it’s target and giving it’s head a vicious shake, slamming the pole against the bars of its cage and snapping the metal stave in two.

Rather than rush forward, the guards instead stepped back, pulling Van with them. A shrill whistle sounded in warning half a second before the bars of the dragons cage energized. There was a brilliant flash and the stink of charred skin as the dragon shrieked in agony as it’s entire world caught fire.

In the sudden silence that followed, Van blinked his eyes, trying to clear away the spots from his vision. The poor dragon lay sprawled on the floor of it’s cage groaning softly, stunned senseless from the energy.

It hurt deeply to see such a noble beast treated with such utter disrespect and Van felt a near overpowering urge to step forward and help it. The dragon was so young, it was likely terrified and in agony judging by the mess someone had made of it’s wings. Long deep slashes had nearly severed the thin membrane of it’s patagium, rendering the majestic beast land bound for life.

The dragon, like everything else here looked badly underfed and lacking in hygienic care. Sores oozed openly on it’s body from past surgical wounds and numerous scars decorated it’s scaled hide. It’s claws hadn’t been cared for either and were too long, curling in on themselves and piercing the tough pads on it’s toes, making standing rather agonizing for the poor thing. For all of it’s short life, this creature had likely known nothing but torture.

While lay there motionless, Van was led to the last cage in the room. Like the dragon’s, it appeared to be simple metal bars, though he could see the many wires near the floor hinting that it could be energized at a simple command should he misbehave. Though little larger than the human cells in the other room, this one had a hose installed in the ceiling and beneath that, a drain. There was also what looked like a rather primitive sort of commode next to it, allowing the inhabitant to enjoy some level of cleanliness.

A small narrow cot was the cells only other piece of furniture and the thin mattress on it didn’t promise to be overly comfortable. No blanket was provided, likely to keep the occupant from using it as an improvised weapon of some sort, meaning that his nights were going to be cold and uncomfortable to say the least. Still, it was better than being chained to a wall, so he wasn’t about to complain too loudly... not that his captors would care.

The guards with him opened up the cell door and gave him another sharp shove, making it clear that this was his final stop. A painful zap from one of the staves sent him stumbling forward and the cage door slammed shut behind him, nearly catching his heel in it’s haste.

Despite himself, Van spun around and launched himself at the bars, knowing that it was futile but unable to hold himself back. He couldn’t go into captivity so meekly! He wasn’t going to be like those poor wretches in the other cells! Oh sweet gods of Gaea... he had to get out of here! A few well placed hits from those damn poles got him away from the bars but he continued to yell threats at the guards who showed the usual lack of any concern over their complicity in kidnapping a king.

Realizing that he wasn’t accomplishing anything other than irritating the neighbouring dragon who hissed at him rather ominously, Van stalked over to the bed and sat down on it, huffing loudly in frustration. Dammit, this wasn’t getting him anywhere! The bars were too narrow to slip through, not to mention the whole being energized thing. If it was powerful enough to stun a dragon, it would likely kill someone like him. The only exit was the door and that appeared to be locked rather securely with one of those strange metal keypads.

Footsteps up above made him look up and he saw guards walking along the catwalks, monitoring the room with alert eyes and ready weapons. These weren’t like many of the complacent guards at the Asturian palace, secure in the safety of their castle. These men were fully aware of the possible danger posed by the occupants in this room and were ready to quickly respond to any threat. Escape was beginning to look like an impossibility and Van could feel his spirits sink.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the edge of the cot but the sound of the dragon going into another vicious frenzy alerted him to the likely hood of unwelcome guests. Without a moment’s hesitation, he shot to his feet and prepared to attack anyone foolish enough to open the door to his cell. At this point, he was more than willing to use one of these monsters as a human shield against their fellows.

Several of the shock staves met him, ready to deliver their painful bites should he approach the door, but attacking was the last thing to cross his mind as he saw the shining white figure approach the cell, moving with his usual arrogant saunter as if he were in full military gear rather than the simple grey shift identical to Van’s.

Dilandau paused at the door and flashed him an amused smirk as one of the guards snarled out something in their native tongue. The albino cocked his head slightly, listening to the orders then chuckled lightly as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“If you don’t move to the back of the cell, they’ll energize the bars and knock you out.” That familiar and irritating silken purr was back in Dilandau’s voice as he crossed his arms over his chest, one hip cocked to the side insolently as he watched the furious king, amusement sparkling deep within those crimson eyes.

Reluctantly, Van obediently retreated, noting as he did so that none of the guards seemed to be even half as wary around the Dragonslayer as they’d been with him. There were no sticks prodding him painfully in the back and no vice like grips on his shoulder, preventing him from moving in anything but the desired direction. In return, Dilandau appeared to be wholly at ease, as if he were enjoying a stroll through the park rather than a nightmarish tour through every possible hell imaginable. Granted, the albino certainly wasn’t a bastion of sanity at the best of times. Maybe he’d enjoyed the view and found it to be educational?

No, he couldn’t start thinking like that again. Dilandau might be cruel, hot tempered and possessing as much mercy as a well fed house cat with a mouse, but this went well beyond his level of adrenaline fuelled sadism. It was one thing to be cruel because of opportunity and circumstances but another to create an entire system of state condoned inhumanity.

Of course, the very fact that he was bothering to differentiate between the two likely meant he was spending far too much time in the Dragonslayers presence. Evil was evil. It used to be so damn simple before he’d gotten to know his enemy as a person.

Speaking of said person, Dilandau had walked past him with only the slightest of nods and happily flopped down on the cot as if he owned the place. He hadn’t even been in the cell for a whole minute and he was already trying to take over! Didn’t he realize that Van had gotten here first! Ugh, he was going to be impossible to share with.... wait... oh sweet gods of Gaea no... they had to share the cell... share the cot....Shroden thought they were lovers... How about that. His situation had still managed to get even more intolerable.

“Make yourself comfortable why don’t you?” Van found himself grumbling. “It’s a palace worthy of kings.”

The dragonslayer glanced over at him from where he lay, one hand propped up beneath his head to act as a pillow. It was infuriating how comfortable he looked. Granted, considering that he’d spent the better part of his childhood in a small dark box of a room, Van supposed that anything would feel like paradise.

“I will.” Dilandau replied primly, showing that despite having endured a week of heavy sedation followed by sensory deprivation, torture and other things best not pondered for too long, he possessed remarkable resilience. “I like the bars actually.” He continued, not sounding the least bit sarcastic. “It’s nice being able to see out, even if the view is lacking.” A pale hand was waved in the air idly in a gesture to encompass the whole room. “Granted, the dragon is a great touch. Maybe if we please the Master enough, he’ll let us fight it!” That certainly perked him up though Van struggled to hold his grimace at hearing Dilandau address his tormentor in any sort of polite manner.

“I ... I think it’s here for the same reasons we are.” Van swallowed the bile gathering at the back of his throat and turned away, only to be confronted with the horrific views of the other cells. Ugh, there was literally nowhere to look that didn’t appall him on some level.

As if it somehow knew they were talking about it, the dragon snarled softly from it’s cage and swiped irritably at them through the bars. The sharp talons came about a foot short of their own bars and the beast hissed in frustration. Grinning, Dilandau sat up on the bed and leaned against said bars, grinning at his new toy.

“Awww, did I make you angry?” He jeered happily. Van didn’t need to even look at the albino to know that those crimson eyes were shining with cruel delight. “Come on, you can do better than that. Just being near me must be driving you insane. Come on you overgrown gecko, let’s see some fire!” A slender hand slipped through the bars, long fingers wriggling teasingly, urging the dragon to attack again. When the inevitable swipe came, The claws still missed, but only by a hairs breadth and the dragon screamed in frustration.

“Dilandau, stop bullying the dragon.”

“Relax, you’re as bad as Schezar.” Crimson eyes rolled melodramatically in their sockets as Dilandau wiggled his fingers again, snickering at yet another attack failed to tear his hand off. “Do you think this thing can breathe fire yet?”

“Dare I dream?” Van mumbled more to himself than anyone and did his best to ignore the way the dragon snapped and gnawed at the bars of it’s cage, determined to get closer to the white haired annoyance. “It can’t breathe fire yet.” He finally clarified after watching another five solid minutes of slayer versus dragon. “It’s not old enough to have a developed energist. Give it another few decades or so.”

At those words, the albino glanced in his direction and nearly lost his hand due to his inattention.

“Well that’s boring. Dragons aren’t any fun if they can’t breathe fire.”

“I’m sure that it’s deeply torn up inside at the thought of not being able to entertain you.” Yes, even in the deepest darkest pits of doom, the two of them could still find something to argue about. “Get off the bed, I want to lay down.” That earned him a raised silvery eyebrow and a rather impressive smirk as Dilandau finally pulled his arm out of the dragon’s reach and leaned back against the bars in order to look at Van directly.

“Why should I get off the bed? I’ve had just as long a day as you, or does time function differently for Fanelians?”

“Could we not argue for a whole five minutes?” Van sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose lightly, feeling a growing headache building there. Whether it was from stress, fear or having breathed in something toxic during today’s adventures was anyone’s guess, but he was rapidly approaching his wits end and had no patience left for dealing with Dilandau and his strangeness. There was of course the usual temptation to simply grab the irritating albino and drag him off the damn cot, but the only thing that would do was spark a fight between the two of them and as much as he hated to admit it, the idea of hurting the zaibach youth, after everything he’d seen today didn’t appeal to him in the slightest.

As if he could hear Van’s mental dialogue, Dilandau slid back down on the cot, making himself comfortable once more and amusing himself by staring up at the guards walking back and forth on the catwalk above.

“Van?” Sweet gods of Gaea, couldn’t he get just one minute of silence? Maybe he could ask the guards for a gag like the doppelganger wore... no, Dilandau would only chew his way out of it. Sighing heavily, Van flopped down on the floor next to the bed, resting against the bars and hoping that no one decided to energize them.

“What.” The king’s voice was flat and utterly unwelcoming. Not that this seemed to stop his companion.

“Did you really help me on the leviship?” Alright, that wasn’t something he was expecting to hear, especially asked in such an honestly curious tone of voice. There wasn’t any sarcasm behind it or hint of a sneer. Dilandau sounded as if he honestly wanted to know.

“You don’t remember?” Tilting his head, Van looked over at the other teen who was now laying on his side in order to face the king. There was something about his eyes that looked different than usual, almost... vulnerable. It wasn’t a look he’d ever expected to see on the Dragonslayer and he’d be lying if he said that it wasn’t attractive. Granted, he’d also be an idiot to entirely trust it.

“There’s... there’s blank spots in my memory again.” The dragonslayer admitting somewhat begrudgingly. “I ... I remember that night in Astoria, the flag... I remember the feathers.” His pale fingers gently picked up the shining white feather still hanging from it’s golden chain, twirling it carefully back and forth, admiring the way the light shimmered along the barbs. “After that... I just remember waking up in Master’s bath.” Yup, there was that nausea again. “I... I keep thinking that I’m remembering something, but every time I try, I just hear the screams. They’re so loud that they eat their way into my brain until it’s all I can hear.” Slender shoulders shuddered and Dilandau looked away, something darkening in his eyes as he struggled to fill in the gaps in his mind.

Van couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrifying it must be to have huge chunks of time missing from one’s memory. To not know what you’d done, what had been done to you... having to either hope for the best or rely on the recollections and honesty of others... Of course, the truth really wasn’t something that would help the albino’s mental health. Not that that was saying much if he was still under the thrall of his “master.”

“We woke up in a cell on a leviship, chained to a wall. You’d already been awake for a while and hurt a few of the guys who’d kidnapped us... hence the chains.” That earned him a faint smile. “You... didn’t take to captivity well and you tried to kill yourself rather than end up here.” As much as he wanted to sugar coat the truth, he had a feeling that not only would it not be appreciated, but that Dilandau needed to know that Shroden wasn’t his ally or his Master or however he saw the monster.

“Why would I not want to be with my Master?” Proving that if nothing else, Dilandau was predictable in his mentally screwed up state. “I belong to him. We both do now.” He smiled brilliantly as he said this, but his eyes never left the still turning feather. “He’s going to use us to complete a brilliant experiment and even though I failed him, he’s still found a use for me.”

“Yeah, I bet he has.” The words slipped past this lips before he was aware that he’d uttered them aloud. Those crimson eyes glanced up into his but once again, there was only mind confusion in their depths.

“Why else would he bring us here? We’ll be components in this new experiment, vital pieces. You should be honoured Van.” This just wasn’t a sane conversation by any stretch of the imagination and gods of Gaea, Van desperately wanted to grab Dilandau by the scruff of the neck and shake some sense into him.

“Look around you!” The king snapped, unable to hold back his disgust any longer. “Do any of these people look honoured? Every single one of them would rather die than be here, and you were the same. You hate Shroden, you loathe him with every fibre of your being. You can’t even talk about the man without having panic attacks, so don’t give me this “glorious Master” crap.” The feather stopped turning in Dilandau’s hands as he stared at Van, appalled that the fanelian king would dare to speak such words against his wonderful creator.

“He gave me life!” The albino snapped back heatedly. “He saw to it that I was trained, that I had the chance to prove that I was the best of his creations. He gave me a guymelef and showed me how to kill my enemies!”

“He tortured you Dilandau. I’ve seen the scars on your body and you read the files to me about the Eidolon experiment. You were tortured, raped and forced to kill other children or be killed yourself. He twisted you up inside over and over again and made you love him for it.” Reaching out a hand, Van grabbed his own chained feather, pulling it out from the shelter of his shirt and held it up next to it’s twin.

“Remember when you gave me this? When you made it? You’d just found out that he’d spied on you and your lover, that he was involved in his death.” Perhaps provoking the unstable youth when they were both trapped in a cage together wasn’t his best plan of attack, but he needed to ensure that the two of them were on the same side, and he couldn’t count on Dilandau to help him escape if the dragonslayer was their enemies willing slave. “Folken had him strangled to death and then abandoned in a shed. Then he was going to do that anchor thing with you to prove to the sorcerers that you could be controlled.”

Something dark stirred in the depths of those strange eyes and Van could see the pupils contracting even as a thin sheen of sweat graced the albino’s brow. With his fingers still wrapped around his own feather pendant, Dilandau reached out his index finger, the tip stroking along the length of the feather he’d given Van.

Energist light flickered in the depths of his pupils, the merest of pinpricks, but it was enough to make Van’s hair stand on end and in the other cage, the dragon began to snarl and shriek in agitation.

“He... he met with me after... after the recording. I didn’t know he’d be there, but he told methat he’d seen us together, that he knew how I felt...” Dilandau’s voice was soft as he stared at the feathers, but Van was quickly growing to learn that a soft spoken Dilandau was an extremely dangerous one. “I’d never seen him so furious with me, I thought he was going to either torture or kill me over what he’d seen... but what he did was so much worse.” Those crimson eyes closed for a moment as the memories rose up once again in the albino’s mind, as fresh and raw as the day they’d happened. “There was no way he was going to tolerate me bonding with Miguel... I hadn’t meant to, I didn’t even know how it happened, but M...Master refused to share the bond with someone he didn’t control utterly. It was so stupid, Miguel would have followed any orders he’d given, so would I. We hadn’t betrayed Zaibach or the Madoushi. I was loyal! I really was!” The feather trembled in Dilandau’s grip as the teen drew in a deep breath, struggling for calm amidst the growing turmoil of his mind. Those smouldering eyes opened up, staring intently at the feather once again, as if it held some great hidden power.

“He ordered me to kill him.” The words were almost toneless but no less shocking, causing Van to suck air sharply in between his teeth. Still, he remained silent, letting the dragonslayer follow the paths of his memory, exhuming his past one memory at a time without interruption. The temptation to reach out and offer some sort of physical comfort was strong, but he didn’t want to disrupt the tenuous balance between memory and mind control. It was his hope that if Dilandau could somehow sort his way through he morass of his own mind, he might actually break free of whatever it was Shroden had done to his mind. Still, it hurt to maintain his distance in the face of so much suffering.

“I refused.” The eyes closed again and the trembling grew more noticeable now, causing Van to glance around and make sure that the guards were too busy with the agitated dragon to notice this little drama taking place.

“I’d never refused him before... Not even when he...” Pale lips clamped shut quickly and Dilandau glanced down at the floor for a moment, clearly loathe to admit what he’d almost revealed. It was hard not to try to prod him into finishing the thought, but Van continued to hold his silence. He’d learn the answers soon enough. Dilandau was terrible with secrets. “I was such an idiot... it was a test, always a test. He knew exactly what Miguel was when I refused... I killed him. I might not have choked the life out of him, but I might as well have.” Those eyes now focused on his, boring into his skull with that all too familiar mad loathing he’d grown to recognize over the course of the war. Only this time, it wasn’t aimed at him, it was all directed inwards.

“Since I couldn’t do it, he told me he’d order Folken to murder Miguel. It didn’t matter what it would do to me mentally, because he said that he’d reprogram me and force me to bond with the buzzard. He wanted me to forget that Miguel even existed and force me to love his murderer!” The alien glow in those strange eyes was growing brighter and Van could make out an answering shine in the energist pendant on his chest. “He laughed about it! I tried to fight him, to stop him... I... I don’t remember the rest, just that there was so much pain, it felt like I was being torn apart from the inside out!”

Across from them, the dragon was going wild, smashing itself against the bars of the cage in it’s desperation to attack Dilandau. Guards were racing forward to stun the beast and there was a brilliant flash of light as the cage was energized, but this time it did little to stop the maddened monster.

Moaning in sudden agony, Dilandau brought his hands up to his face, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes, trying to blot out the onslaught of images tearing through his mind as those fleeting memories led to others. The screaming in his head grew louder, taking on individual voices until he could hear each and every one of his Dragonslayers trying to reach out to him, screaming his name, begging him to save them. He could hear all of those nameless children shrieking out in agony, never even understanding why they were being made to suffer. The screams of his Sun’s anguish tore through him despite how desperately the golden eyed boy had struggled to hold them back. Finally, he heard Celena crying out in terror, seeking protection from the world of flesh, struggling to wrap the fabric of his mind around herself, sealing all the pain away.

Above it all, drowning out the soul shattering cacophony was cold icy laughter, his Master’s voice filled with gloating triumph. Those two cold circles of light seemed to stare into him, tearing away at the memories, trying to shred them with knives of ice and needles filled with fire.

His Master didn’t want him to remember, He wanted him to be grateful and compliant. He couldn’t fight against his Master’s will, could he? The man was his god, his destroyer. What was he but a toy? A nameless experiment who owed it’s entire existence to the man’s brilliance.

More memories were torn apart and the screams grew louder the harder he struggled to hold onto them. If he gave in, he’d have peace. His Master would grant him silence, he would keep the memories away, the feelings. What did he need them for? Things didn’t have feelings. They were an unacceptable weakness to a creature such as him. What was he but the ultimate soldier? He was a weapon made flesh and weapons didn’t feel love, loneliness, pain or fear. They simply destroyed according to the will of the Master.

“No!” He ground out through gritted teeth, his fingernails digging into his scalp and growing wet with blood as they began to tear into the thin flesh. “Don’t make me forget! I want to remember! I NEED to remember!”

Van’s will finally broke and he reached out his hand to gently touch a pale trembling shoulder. When the contact wasn’t met with violence, he carefully slid his hand higher to touch those silken soft silvery white locks of hair, trying to bring what comfort he could to the distraught youth.

Dilandau was so focused on his internal battle that he barely registered the touch, even when those hands wrapped around his fingers, taking hold and gently pulling them free, preventing him from causing further damage to himself. Dimly, he could hear a soft sound... humming? It started off so quietly, subtly undermining his Masters laughter even as it quieted the screams. Coupled with the gentle stroking touches, it reminded him of how it had felt to have fingers gently stroking their way through his feathers, massaging each quill where it met the skin with delicate care.

It felt wonderful, comforting despite knowing that it wasn’t the touch of the person he truly wanted or needed. He ached to feel those strong dark skinned fingers stroking along his skin again, to hear that deep warm voice calling him a crazy brat and lecturing him about getting worked up over nothing. He wanted to feel that cool confidence bolster him up and maybe hear a heated lecture about how he shouldn’t admit defeat so quickly when there was clearly a way out if he only calmed down and took a moment to look for it.

A crushing pain tightened around his heart as a darkness surrounded that thought, reminding him of the recent rejection, the disgust in his lover’s eyes. Over and over he’d been pushed away by those he’d so desperately wanted to hold him close, leaving the one he loathed more than any other reaching out to him with cold cruel hand...

Twisting sharply, he tried to dislodge the touch, suddenly convinced that this was just another game, another cruel test designed to study his willpower and resilience. The hand didn’t pull away, it instead tried to pull him close, the way so many other hands had before, hands he hadn’t fought against, touches he’d welcomed even as he drowned in loathing.

Fingers continued to slide through his hair, touching him, always touching, making him feel things he didn’t want to feel. They spread him open, delved into his body, tearing, stroking, taking, hurting... He couldn’t handle it... not again... please don’t touch him anymore... With a soft whimper of dread, he began to tremble violently, drawing his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them. It didn’t occur to him to even try to pull away. Retreat had never been an option in his life, neither had been mercy and he expected neither as he waited for the punishment to begin. Any moment now, he’d be either consumed with raw agony, or locked away in darkness until his mind was rendered more tractable.

Just thinking about his fate, waiting for it with sick dread made breathing difficult. Every breath was more difficult than the one before and he was positive that the air was getting thinner and thinner. Soon there wouldn’t be anything left inside his lungs and they would collapse. Sick anticipation filled him as the world began to darken around him, spinning dizzyingly until he began to lose focus.

“Dilandau?” The voice was soft, filled with concern while fingers continued to slide through his hair. They were being cruel today. He must have truly infuriated the Masters to have them play with him like this. Desperately, he reached out for the oblivion which called to him with it’s siren song, but the touch continued, stealing his attention and forcing him to acknowledge the physical connection whether he wanted to or not.

“Breathe Diandau, just breathe with me alright? In, out... deep slow breaths.” Now the voice added itself to the maelstrom in his head, the sound further anchoring him in this existence despite his best efforts to will himself away. It didn’t sound like a Madoushi. There was too much emotion in the voice, the touch was too gentle. Jajuka? The thought was fleeting and quickly crushed by memories of screams and burning blue fire. No, he was dead like the others, like everyone. His death had opened the doorway into oblivion, welcoming him into that terrible nothingness he now craved so desperately.

This new voice offered the opposite. Life, in all its terrible pain filled glory. Life where the screams would haunt him, where his world fell apart around him no matter where he turned and nothing made sense anymore.

Loneliness howled through him, echoing through the vast gaping holes fifteen beautiful lives had once filled, leaving him trembling violently as cold sweat broke out along his brow. Gone. Everyone was gone, leaving him alone with his worst nightmare. They’d dared to become a part of his life, teach him about how everything should have been, showed him what safety, family and devotion truly were, then they left him back in the same deep dank pit of reality they’d found him in, only this time he lacked the defences to survive it intact.

“I... I know... how to ... fucking... breathe.” The dragonslayer ground out, loathing how his voice quivered and how strained it sounded. Sweet fate those fingers felt wonderful and he found himself leaning into their touch despite himself. It didn’t matter who was touching him anymore, so long as they didn’t stop.

“Yeah, well, you’re doing a terrible job at it, now stop talking and just breathe before you pass out.”

“I’m... not... some weakling.” He snapped back, his words slurring as his brain struggled to function properly in it’s oxygen saturated state. “I won’t... pass out.”

The darkness wasn’t receding despite his best efforts to regulate his breathing and he knew that the voice was right. The dry sardonic tone overlaying the open concern sounded so much like Gatti that he could almost imagine the stoic dragonslayer holding him close, ignoring the threats and insults thrown at him in order to see that his captain understood that he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t the first time the ash blonde slayer had done such a thing and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Despite his harsh tones, Dilandau was deeply grateful for his friends presence and as the darkness grew deeper, he curled up against the slayers strong chest, knowing that he’d be protected.

“Gatti....” He murmured softly, his eyes closing as the darkness took him. The fingers continued their gentle stroking, slowly relaxing him until his breathing began to even out. Hovering on the very edges of consciousness, Dilandau allowed himself a soft sigh, feeling his perpetually tense muscles relax as he indulged in this brief island of safety.

“If you tell anyone about this Gatti, I’ll kill you.” His words were muffled as he snuggled into the warm body, wrapping his arms around his friend as he felt Gatti’s heat slowly leach into his own trembling form. The fingers paused their stroking for a moment before resuming at Dilandau’s irritated grumble.

“I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry.” The voice replied. For a moment, Dilandau considered reprimanding his second for failing to call him sir, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. Snuggling on the other slayers lap was hardly conducive towards proper forms of address. He’d slap him later as a warning... maybe.

Van wasn’t quite sure what to do in this sort of situation. He’d only intended to help avert a panic attack, not engage in snuggling with the fierce dragonslayer. The very idea of impersonating one of Dilandau’s men hadn’t even crossed his mind, but he’d seen no reason to strip the distraught teen of something that was giving him some small measure of comfort. Still, it was odd to note how comfortable the brutal warlord was with the idea of cuddling up to one of his men, making Van wonder if this had been a regular event. Had the dragonslayers known how messed up their captain had been? Clearly this Gatti individual had been and had likely offered to calm his leader on more than one occasion.

The more he found out about his former enemies, the more guilty he felt about their slaughter. They’d been people, kids struggling to survive a brutal war with a traumatized leader. Not only had they been fighting a physical battle against Van and his allies, but they’d been waging an all out psychological war against their own side, with Dilandau’s mind as the prize. It was a war they’d eventually lost because of him, and that realization weighed heavily on his soul.

“I’ll protect you as well as I can.” Van murmured to the still youth curled against him. “You’re certainly doing a rather crappy job on your own.” He couldn’t help but add, earning himself a barely heard grunt from the albino, making him wonder if the other youth had caught that.

A vague chill brushed across his skin causing the hair on his body to stand on end as he stiffened at the familiar sensation. His stomach clenched with dread as he looked up, eyes wide with shock, only to meet washed out grey eyes which were staring into his own.

A young man no older than himself stood at the foot of the cot, watching them both. His dragonslayer uniform was immaculate, his pale hair had been cut quite short, save for a bit of fringe which framed his brows rather neatly, the curls impressively symmetrical in their placement. It was hard to tell it’s exact colour due to the washed out nature of the ghost, but judging by the protective glare he was being given, Van figured that he could safely guess that he was seeing the aforementioned Gatti.

The ghost didn’t speak which was just as well seeing as how Van wasn’t sure if he could hear let alone understand the dragonslayer. He’d never been good at understanding the harsh zaibach language despite his wartime exposure to it. Hopefully the ghost was better educated than he was, because he had a lot to say to the spectral being.

“I meant what I said to him.” He stated in asturian, figuring that if Dilandau was fluent in the language, his men likely were as well. “I won’t ask for your forgiveness. Dilandau was right when he said that there was no way that I could atone for taking you all away from him, but... I want to try. It was war, it was survival, and I wanted to survive just as badly as you all did. It wasn’t my intention to cause him so much pain.” Those cold grey eyes didn’t look overly convinced, but seeing as how the dragonslayer wasn’t currently trying to rip the life force out of his body, he took that as a good sign.

“He misses you guys.” Van continued, realizing only then that he was still gently stroking that silky soft hair. Feeling his cheeks heat up, he quickly pulled his hand away. The ghost’s pale brow lowered slightly in disapproval, making Van question whether it was the removal of the hand, or the fact that it had been touching his precious captain in the first place which was unacceptable. The guy’s face was as hard to read as Folken’s had been, making it difficult to know exactly where he stood in the eyes of his spectral guest.

“I don’t know if it’s my place to tell you, but he needs you guys. Why did you vanish? Why didn’t you fight to protect him from this?” Van’s voice took on an accusing edge as he glared at the ghost who was doing a rather remarkable job of glaring back without once shifting his facial expression. He’d thought only his brother was capable of that. “That’s what you guys do isn’t it? Protect him? Good job there! Do you have any idea what Shroden did to him?”

Alright, taking verbal jabs at a ghost who was fully capable of ripping his soul out likely was a stupid move, but Van’s anger was growing with every word and he finally had someone he could vent to. It was all too easy to imagine how abandoned Dilandau must have felt to realize that his men hadn’t protected him. Coupled with Gaddes’ rejection of him as a lover had to be utterly devastating. Then to be dragged back here, tortured then most likely assaulted by that freak of a sorcerer was probably going to shatter what was left of Dilanda’s sanity.

He couldn’t help but feel that it could have all been avoided if the dragonslayers had done their damn job and protected their leader the way he’d clearly been counting on.

Frustration glittered in those dead grey eyes and he saw slender leather clad fingers clench tightly into a fist. Well, at least that proved that the ghost could understand him. Now he had to worry about what would happen if he was punched in the face by a spirit. Judging by how uncomfortable it had been when one of them had touched him in the labs, he didn’t relish the prospect.

“Why are you even here now?” He demanded, deliberately reaching his hand up and stroking it through Dilandau’s hair again, rubbing in the fact that their former nemesis was here, taking care of their beloved leader while the dragonslayers sat on their spectral asses and did nothing to help him. It was petty, childish and likely dangerous in the extreme, but he didn’t care. Friends stood up for each other, no matter how evil or misguided they all were.

Rather than attacking, Gatti instead glanced down at the hand sliding through those pale silken locks, his flat gaze gaining intensity for a moment. He then looked up pointedly at Van, then back down at the hand.

Never had Van wanted to be able to speak to someone so badly. Here was someone who likely had all the answers they needed, but he wouldn’t speak to them. As if he really needed anymore stress in his life. Couldn’t something go his way just once?

Wait... maybe... maybe things were actually working in his favour. Aside from when they’d tried to kill him, then that brief moment in the labs when Dilandau had had a complete psychotic episode, he’d never been able to see the Dragonslayers. This one clearly wasn’t trying to pull him into death, and he seemed rather fixated on Van touching Dilandau....

“I can see you because I’m touching him?” He asked, privately thinking that that was a rather stupid rule if that was the case. Still, seeing as how they were the last two draconians on Gaea, it couldn’t exactly be ruled out. Strangeness seemed to follow the children of Atlantis.

Gatti shook his head slightly and pointed at the hand in Dilandau’s hair once again, then raised his hand to point at Van, then at himself. Those flat stern eyes never once blinked, his pupils never dilated or contracted and it was odd realizing that save for the one gross movement, nothing else seemed to move on the dragonslayer. Not a single strand of hair, nor a shift of his uniform as he breathed. There was no extraneous sign of life... which he supposed made sense considering he was now talking to a corpse.

Dilandau stirred against him, groaning softly and his nose wrinkled slightly. The ghost’s form flickered and grew faint, the previously sharp edges fading away and growing blurry. His grey eyes looked down at the sleeping form nestled against Van and for a moment, the king saw profound sorrow in the depths of those flat grey eyes moments before the dragonslayer was cleaved in two, his head splitting apart like an overripe melon. Van yelled in shock, reaching out his hand as if to try to pull the ghost away from his grizzly fate only to scramble back as brilliant blue flames consumed the spectral body. Blood and brains were devoured in moments, leaving Van sitting there stunned with a very awake and irate Dilandau on the floor at his feet.

“What the fuck!?” Dilandau sputtered as scrambled to his feet, ready to defend himself from whatever had just attacked him. It took a moment to focus as everything seemed to swim around him for a moment and he had an absolutely splitting headache... not to mention the fact that he’d been on the floor... what the hell was up with that?

Spinning around, he saw Van pressed tightly against the bars, having apparently crab crawled across the cot at high speed. His normally tanned face sickly pale and his eyes wide as saucers. The king looked one step away from full blown panic and Dilandau quickly looked around, trying to find the source of his horror.

Other than the obvious problem with their current situation, there didn’t appear to be anything worth being alarmed over. Even the stupid dragon was asleep... or out cold judging by the strange stink of cheap barbecue filling the air. So what in fate’s name had the normally plucky king so upset?

Frowning, Dilandau looked around again but still nothing seemed out of place... wait... why had he fallen onto the floor? That meant he’d had to have been on the cot... with Van... together. Alright, perhaps he could sort of understand the freak out... Wait a minute, was he that bad to wake up to?!

“Well fuck you too Van!” He snapped heatedly, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away from the king, wishing that the cell was larger so that he could stalk away properly. It was a safe bet that stomping his way those two steps to the shower and glaring from there wasn’t going to do much for his dignity.

For his part, Van Fanel was still staring in shock at where he’d seen the ghost die... could ghosts even die? Never in his life had he so utterly questioned his sanity, but right now, he honestly had no idea if he’d actually really seen that or if it was simply the stress of the situation going to his head. Was there some unwritten rule that said only Dilandau could go nuts? Maybe it was finally his turn? It wasn’t as if he could continue to be plunged into one nightmare after another without something having an affect on him, and he’d been going on pure adrenaline for well over a week by now.

“The least you could do is pay attention to me when I’m threatening to kill you!” Dilandau snapped at him with just enough of an edge to his voice that Van could tell he’d been likely ranting for a good minute or two at him.

“Uh... sorry... I wasn’t listening...” He mumbled, still not quite able to get that horrific vision of Gatti dying out of his head. Was this what Dilandau always saw when he spoke to his men? No wonder he was always in a terrible mood. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Balgus dying over and over again and from what he’d heard, Dilandau had been far closer to his men than he’d been to his teacher.

“Well that’s blatantly obvious.” The dragonslayer snarled at him, glaring at him out of the corner of his eye, looking utterly disgusted with his cell mate. “And what the hell were you staring at?” He walked over to Van and then looked out of the cell, trying to follow the king’s line of sight. “The mer tank? Seriously?” Shaking his head in disgust, Dilandau walked back over to the bars and leaned against them nonchalantly, still glaring at the king. “What, did you see her tits and freak out because you finally got your first boner?” Well, that certainly got the darker teens attention and those brown eyes grew wide once again even as tank cheeks grew decidedly rosy.

“What?!? NO!”

“Oh good, because I should warn you that mer people are carnivorous.” The albino smirked in a superior fashion, taking some measure of amusement out of the king’s confused and disgusted stare.

“So? We eat meat too.”

“Yeah, but not while it’s still alive and kicking. They prefer fresh meat just before a mating cycle so eating you would be foreplay.” Van glared at him, hating the mocking tone in the other teenagers voice, positive that he was being teased yet again. “Hey, if you don’t believe me, take a walk over there and stick your dick in the tank. I’ll watch from over here, out of the splash zone.”

“Why would you even know something like that?”

“Folken.” You know what? Van didn’t really want to know. Scratch that, he did, but also knew that it really wasn’t worth it. Dilandau was clearly just trying to get under his skin. Seriously, it was as if it was the guys hobby or something. Well, that and burning cities to the ground.

“So then, what got you so worked up?” Dilandau sat down on the edge of the bed, making himself comfortable once again while Van did his best not to think about the fact that he was pretty much sitting right where Gatti had stood. It was more than a little disquieting.

Pointedly looking away, Van picked an innocuous spot on the floor and fixed his eyes on that, refusing to meet the albino’s curious gaze.

“Nothing... it was nothing.” Gods of Gaea, did he have to sound so guilty? Apparently he wasn’t the only one to think so because Dilandau visibly blanched and stared at him in shock.

“You know... I was kidding about the mermaid right? I mean, the staring at her tits part, not the castrating you as an appetizer bit...” Yeah, Dilandau’s brain was a terrifying place. He really didn’t want to understand the albino’s thought process. Still, it wasn’t as if he could admit to seeing one of the Dragonslayers when they clearly hadn’t appeared to their leader since his capture. That would like be the last straw as far as Dilandau was concerned and Van couldn’t risk it, not when the albino was finally starting to act more or less like himself again. Still, he had to say something and without a by your leave, his mouth opened up and said the first thing that came to his mind.

“I wasn’t ogling the mermaid! Honestly! That’s disgusting!” Stupid brain. Clearly that really wasn’t the right thing to say because Dilandau’s mood had suddenly looped right back to being outraged. Honestly, it was dizzying to watch.

“Disgusting!? There’s nothing disgusting about her, she’s simply the way she is! Honestly I expected a more open mind from a Fanelian.”

“I meant ogling someone who is suffering is disgusting!” Van shot back. “Treating another person like they’re nothing but meat is disgusting and the idea of treating anyone in the manner you’d implied is disgusting, so don’t try to get onto that high horse Albatou because you’re the one who suggested it.”

Obviously Dilandau was simply trying to pick a fight for the sake of arguing because he let the barb go without bothering to defend his stance any further. Instead, he stood up once more and began pacing the length of the cell, his eyes darting back and forth taking in every detail he could find. Van watched him for about five minutes before sighing and laying back on the cot.

“You’re making the guards nervous.” He noted absently, earning himself an unconcerned shrug.

“That should concern me why?”

“Well, when you waltzed in here, the guards were acting as if you were on their side. The more suspicious you act, the more alert they’re going to be around you.” That earned him a pause and a thoughtful look from the dragonslayer, quickly followed by a flash of utter disgust.

“Yeah, well Shroden already knows that his little mind games don’t last when I have another strong anchor” Van couldn’t help but perk up at hearing the contempt in the name and he trilled at the fact that Dilandau had actually used the man’s name rather than reverently calling the man “Master.” It gave him hope that the dragonslayer had actually managed to finally throw off the conditioning and free his mind.

“Yeah... can I talk to you about that?” He tried to keep his voice soft just in case any of the guards were listening. None of them stood all that close to their cell, but he knew that Basram was nearly at Zaibach’s level of technology and likely had ways of listening from afar.

Noticing the other teens sudden caution, Dilandau grinned widely and slunk over. His movements flowed into each other and his slender hips swung enticingly with every step. It should have looked awkward and uncoordinated, but instead, there was something utterly erotic about the movements and Van felt his cheeks heating up once more.

He suddenly felt less like a king and war hero and more like the inexperienced teenager he was. It was impossible not to stare as his mind screamed at him to run away, to protect himself or possibly take hold of the approaching teen and do... something with him. The conflicting thoughts made him inexplicably nervous but he pushed it down, knowing that this was likely just Dilandau messing with him again. Fine, he could handle that... couldn’t he? Licking dry lips nervously, he still managed to make himself shift back on the cot to give the other youth room to sit, refusing to be the one to give in first.

Despite there being plenty of room at the end of the bed, Dilandau sat practically on Van’s lap. Long slender legs straddled his hips and the king could feel the warmth of skin through the thin cloth of their shifts.

“W-what are you doing?!” He squeaked as Dilandau leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart.

Rather than replying, Dilandau growled softly, his voice rising and falling in odd patterns. It took a few moments for Van to realize that it was a language, and a little longer to realize that it was one he knew. True, he wasn’t fluent in it, but he was willing to bet that none of the guards could speak the tongue of the wolf clan. It wasn’t a language often shared with outsiders and Van had only learned it due to his close friendship with Rhum.

“How you know to speak like this?” He asked, his words sounding more like a soft whine than actual words. There was a flash of pride which warmed him down to his toes at the look of delight in Dilandau’s eyes.

“Good, you can speak it. I wasn’t sure if you’d know enough to understand me.” As expected, Dilandau’s words had a distinct accent and he spoke it much more comfortably than Van himself. “I told you, I lived with the Iron Fangs for nearly a year when I was younger. They didn’t speak Zaibachi so I had to learn their language or die. They were rather uncompromising.” Once again, Van had to admit that he was impressed with the abilities of the other teen. He’d figured that he was rather skilled having learned to speak passably well in the difficult language, but it had been more of a hobby to Van rather than a life and death full immersion. Was there anything in Dilandau’s life that hadn’t been a matter of utmost survival?

“Speak slow, I not as good as you.” It hurt to have to admit that, but for once, the albino had little interest in mocking the king. Instead, he simply nodded his head and smiled almost invitingly as he made himself comfortable. Unfortunately, that meant pressing himself rather intimately against Van’s body in ways he was rather sure they shouldn’t be touching. “Space... need space... not touch like this.”

He really hoped that Dilandau understood him, but rather than backing off, Dilandau smiled even wider and leaned forward a little more, brushing his fingers through Van’s dark tangles just as the king had with him earlier.

“No.” Oh this wasn’t going to end well. Opening his mouth to retort, Dilandau silenced Van with a slender finger pressed against dark lips. “Shroden thinks you’re my anchor, remember?” His voice was a soft whisper of a growl and the sound sent shivers down Van’s spine which pooled rather strangely in his groin. “That means that you’ve claimed me as your own already, so you shouldn’t be this shy.” Reaching down, Dilandau took one of Van’s hands in his then placed it just below the small of his back. The skin there was so soft and smooth, barely covered by the thin cloth of the shift. Muscles as hard as steel flexed beneath his palms as Dilandau shifted slightly, pressing their bodies even closer.

It took a moment for Van to realize what that smoothly rounded muscle beneath his hand was but when he did, his skin turned beet red and he tried to pull away as if burned. Ready for the reaction, Dilandau held him still, his crimson eyes flashing in warning.

“You’re supposed to be dominating me in this relationship Van, try to look the part. Gaddes’ life depends on this.”

“Not want this... not want you like this!”

“Hmph, could have fooled me.” Dilandau smirked cockily as he gently rocked his hips, pressing himself intimately against Van’s firming flesh. Both teens breaths hitched in their throats at the contact and Dilandau practically purred in pleasure. “Honestly Van, try to stop acting like a virgin. Remember, you’re the one who ravished me on the battlefield.”

“I not do that!” The very idea of committing such a violent act quickly killed any interest the king might have felt at their proximity. Rather than look disappointed, Dilandau instead appeared to be pleased with the offended reaction and continued to run his fingers through Van’s hair with rather stimulating skill.

“Ahh, so you romanced my legs open? Seduced me with sweet words and hard flesh? Is that what I should tell Shroden when he asks?” The albino sounded far too amused by the entire scenario than the situation warranted, but Van realized that they likely should come up with some sort of story because if Shroden was obsessive enough to spy on Dilandau’s bedroom rendezvous, then he was certainly perverse enough to demand details.

“Yes... gentle. Not hurt you. Willing. Both willing.” Then Van realized that the answer had already been supplied to Shroden via their kidnappers and he grinned back at the dragonslayer. “When they took us... we drunk, very drunk. Had sex. Canteen say we already half naked when found, thinks we had sex, told Shroden.”

“Canteen?” Dilandau frowned slightly, unsure if he’d actually heard Van correctly. It was such a random word which had no context at all in the conversation. Unless Van listened to talking equipment, which was entirely possibly he supposed.

“Didn’t know name of man who kidnapped us. Called him Canteen because he brought drugged water in canteen for you.” Sitting back for a moment, Dilandau seemed to consider the strange moniker before nodding his had and smiling.

“Seems appropriate.” He agreed. “And it’s convenient that they have already corroborated the story. I can make up any further kinky details Shroden might want to hear. Don’ worry, I’ll be generous when describing your anatomy.”

Van only understood half of what Dilandau said to him, but judging by the pointed look the other teen aimed in the direction of his groin, he was being mocked. Great, as if he didn’t have enough awkwardness with this encounter, now he knew that Dilandau had just looked at his crotch.

“So, Shroden can’t control you while you have Gaddes?” He tried to get them back on target and immediately wished that he hadn’t named the absent sergeant. Dilandau’s face went from lusty mischievousness to nearly brokenhearted in the flash of an eye and this time, it was the albino who looked away.

“Yeah... so long as I have Gaddes.” He murmured, his voice sounding empty. As irritating and emotionally trying as the dragonslayer was, Van still hated to see him like that. He was quickly growing used to the frustrating and volatile teenager and seeing him emotionally gutted bothered him deeply.

Without thinking, he reached up and gently cupped Dilandau’s unscarred cheek with his hand and smiled up at him.

“Was clever idea. Saved his life and kept us together.” He praised his former rival. “Even drugged, you protected him, told me to lie about anchor. Even after Shroden hurt you, you made him think it was me.”

“I couldn’t let him kill anyone else I cared about.” The pale teen whispered, misery still shining in the depths of his eyes. “I’ve killed too many already.”

“You didn’t kill them!” Van snapped back, his grip shifting slightly until he was holding Dilandau’s jaw firmly, forcing the dragonslayer to look him in the eye. Rather than fight, Dilandau stared at him in shocked surprise. “You didn’t. Folken used machine to set Miguel up, ordered Doppelganger to kill him. Shroden made Folken give orders. None of it your fault so stop hating yourself. Dragonslayers love you. Always love you. They protect you. I protect you. You protect me. All will keep you safe and together, we kill Shroden and stop war.” He truly wished that he was more fluent in this language so he could properly articulate his words, but at least Dilandau seemed to understand enough of it that the worst of the sorrow left his eyes. Smiling, the albino nodded his head, looking almost pleased with the declaration.

“Thank you for that Van.” He whispered gently, favouring the king with a rare honest smile, one which lit up his face and made him shine with an innocence he’d never truly known. “I mean it.”

“Is truth. They used you. Using us now. Not our fault. We’ll fight them, we’ll win. Have to, but have to work together right? Hitomi said only together we win.”

“You’re right. But first, we have to convince Shroden that he holds all the cards, that in controlling you, he controls me.” Van wasn’t sure what Dilandau meant by that, but he did understand what was happening when the albino leaned forward once more, the hand in his hair tilting his head up slightly. “I’m going to try to kiss you and you’re going to stop me.” He murmured softly and Van shivered as he felt the warm ticking breath against his lips. “Say that you don’t want to kiss lips that have already been on Shroden, insult me if you want, call me a slut and shove me away. That way, the guards can report that I’m yours without a doubt. He knows how much we hate each other and that we’d never do this otherwise.”

“Don’t hate you.”

“I know. A good scientist should always ensure he has the most up to date information at his fingertips. Shroden’s arrogance will be his undoing.” Dilandau smiled and leaned closer until Van could actually feel the heat of the other boy’s lips warming his own. It felt utterly delicious and his entire mouth tingled in anticipation of his first kiss even though he desperately wished it had been with Hitomi. Was it wrong to want to drink this in? To find some solace in this vicious living nightmare? Dammit, he was still young, in the prime of his life and his hormones screamed at him to indulge in what was being offered to him so willingly. But it was a lie, and the offer was only being made in order to be rebuffed. If he took advantage of the situation, he’d be no better than the man holding them captive.

Stupid morals!

Moments before their lips touched, Van pushed Dilandau away hard enough to nearly knock the other teen off the cot. Rather than fight him, the albino simply looked at him in confusion, his pupils were so wide they practically swallowed up the crimson in his eyes and he radiated a raw need that Van could actually feel rippling in the air between them. He’d always thought that Dilandau was a terrible actor judging by the gloating attempt at innocence he’d made during his meeting at Castilo shortly after razing Fanelia, but he was wrong. Dilandau could act amazingly well when it truly mattered.

“Van?” He sounded so hurt and confused that Van almost forgot himself an apologized. Instead, he hardened his eyes and motioned for Dilandau to get off of him.

“When I want your touch I’ll tell you.” He snapped, loathing himself for his words. After the harsh growls and whines of the wolfkin language, Astorian sounded strangely liquid to his ears, as if the sounds were slipping out of his mouth. “Did you even wait to be ordered before you spread your legs for that bald headed freak?” Dilandau winced at the words and looked down guiltily, acting thoroughly cowed and it sicked Van to have to keep spitting out the vile accusations, knowing fully well that the other teen had had no choice in the matter. “I can still smell him on you, you slut. Go wash yourself or something. I have no interest in touching sorcerer leftovers.”

Dilandau didn’t apologize or grovel and for that Van was grateful, he however wasn’t expecting the dragonslayer to slip soundlessly off of his body and immediately begin stripping off the thin shift he wore. Quickly averting his eyes, he avoided seeing that alabaster pale flesh sheathing sleek perfectly shaped muscles... mostly.

There was the sound of cloth being folded then carefully placed on the edge of the bed, then the soft sound of bare feet padding over to the far corner of the cell where the shower hose was located. Rolling over and placing his hands over his head, Van did his best to drown out the sound of Dilandau washing himself as ordered, perfectly ignoring the watching eyes of the guards as if this was something he did every day of his life.

Van hoped that he wasn’t too humiliated by the poorly chosen order but he knew better than to try to apologize. Instead, he stared into the adjacent cell and saw the dragon glaring at him with accusing eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He mouthed to the beast instead as hot tears edged their way past his lashes. The dragon was as unmoved as the slayer likely would be. Gods of Gaea, he had to get out of this madness before it completely tore him apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, happy chapter. On the plus side, Gatti is still around! yay?  
> Hope everyone enjoyed this little trek into the dark parts of my brain, the journey is far from over but there will be bright points for the characters here and there before they manage to crawl their way out of this mess. Also, we'll find out what our Astorian pals have been up to over the past week. My money is on drinking heavily, arguing and yelling at a lot of guards. Seriously, the Astorian palace seems to have a rather high kidnapping rate. They should look into that.
> 
> Next Chapter: the Crusade crew (and company) work out their next move while our erstwhile captives learn why exactly they've been taken prisoner.


	4. It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The allies being their hunt for information on the two missing teens while Van learns an important lesson in discipline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne, yadda yadda...  
> Long chapter, I had so much I wanted to squeeze in here and still had to cut it short. heh. Don't worry, there's some intrigue, snark, Crusade crew being... well, the Crusade crew, and a good helping of dark angst. Hope you enjoy and please leave comments. I love answering questions, hearing theories or ideas. ^_^

“What I’m saying is that we have no idea where they might be or if they’re even alive.” Dryden glared down at the map of Palas, his arms crossed over his chest and a hint of frustration entering his voice. He’d been up since the crack of dawn dealing with this mess, not to mention being repeatedly awoken during the night by guards reporting demons haunting the castle ramparts. For the past few hours, he’s been in constant contact with his rather wide information network in an attempt to track down any hint of the wayward king and captain, but so far it had been of little help.

“Neither Van or Dilandau would allow themselves to be taken without one hell of a fight.” Gaddes pointed out heatedly, jabbing a fingertip firmly against the map, specifically the myriad of canals which bisected nearly every major block in the city. “That meant they had to be drugged. No one saw anyone dragging two unconscious kids around town, so that meant they likely took to the waterways. We need to dredge them!”

“We already have our best divers investigating the canals.” Princess Millerna spoke up, her tone gentle and patient even though she’d been dealing with not only the stress of monitoring her newest patient, but also doing her best to assuage a room full of nearly hysterical people, none who were in any mood to be calmed. A cup of tea cooled on the table next to her, barely touched, though it’s sweet fragrance did lend a certain warmth to the air.

“They’re either in Basram or Zaibach” Merle growled from where she perched on the edge of the table, one of her claws idly shredding the edge of the expensive map as she dealt with her ever growing frustration. As furious as she was with Gaddes, she shared his impatience with how slowly everything was moving.

“Zaibach had nothing to do with this!” Regis cut in sharply. The teenager had been pacing the room for the past few minutes, stopping every once and a while to stare intently at the map before resuming his nervous march. “What could we possibly have to gain from kidnapping King Van Fanel? That didn’t exactly work well for us the last time and contrary to popular belief, we do learn from our mistakes.”

“How should I know?” Merle shot back, her tail lashing from side to side. “Your whole country is evil and insane.”

“We believed in our leader!” Regis stepped forward, his pale grey eyes blazing with wounded pride and fury. For a moment, it honestly looked as if he might actually draw steel on the irate little cat girl, but he managed to reign in his temper and took a deep calming breath before speaking again.

“While I admit, the government would love to have Captain Albatou in custody in order to regain face,” He sounded utterly disgusted and embarrassed over this fact, which was hardly surprising judging by the high esteem most of his countrymen seemed to hold the young captain in. “There is no way any Zaibach citizen would be foolish enough to touch a hair on King Fanels head.”

“Not even for revenge?” The cat girl hissed softly, her eyes narrowing as short yet sharp claws dug into the tabletop. Grey eyes met blue without wavering as Regis leaned forward slightly.

“We as a nation acknowledged our collective mistake. None of us had any idea what exactly Emperor Dornkirk was attempting or how twisted his plans were.” It hurt the young nobleman to admit this and shamed him deeply. It was a humiliation shared by his entire country and one they would bear for several generations to come. “I have no grudge against King Fanel or any of the heroes of the Destiny War. While I cannot speak for all of the citizens of my country, I do not believe that my government had any part in this.”

“We know the sorcerers of Zaibach are involved and that asleides units have been used in two attacks upon Dilandau.” Allen added, his cool blue eyes studying the teens reactions, noting how his wounded pride suddenly shifted into shamed contempt.

“The Zaibach government handed over the Madoushi as ordered by the terms of our surrender.” He replied coolly, his chin lifting slightly as he attempted to cover his embarrassment. “It’s always possible that some escaped, or that unscrupulous individuals are impersonating them. The only one who knew the identities of all of the Madoushi was Emperor Dornkirk, so it’s entirely possible that some unscrupulous individual with a long black cloak is pretending to be one. They rarely interacted with anyone save for the highest ranked officers so would be nearly impossible to identify. As for the guymelefs, there are few enough now within Zaibach’s borders. Each allied country claimed a sizable portion of our armaments as reparations.” It said a great deal towards the boy’s diplomatic training to manage to sound utterly matter of fact over the statement, hiding any trace of the deep bitterness he’d likely felt.

“Besides, if Zaibach wanted Captain Albatou back,” he added “They’d have simply contacted him and ordered him back into service.” Again, there was no hint of doubt in his voice or posture, causing Allen to believe that this youth had no idea exactly what his government had subjected their prized captain to. “Despite what foul stories have been told of Captain Albatou in regards to the war, his loyalty has never been called into question.”

As much as the knight wanted to lay the blame on Zaibach’s lap, Allen was quite convinced that in this particular case, they were innocent of wrong doing. Though the country was but a shadow of it’s former glory, Zaibach had proven time and time again to be surprisingly subtle and resourceful. These previous attacks had been vicious yet heavy handed. There was a certain level of arrogance behind each attempt against Van and Dilandau which one would simply not find in a country so recently defeated.

“I believe that young Lord Falafell is correct.” He finally spoke up, hoping with every fibre of his being that he was correct. If nothing else, it felt right, and Allen had long ago learned to trust his instincts, especially when they echoed logic.

“Dilandau spoke of a General Tseng. I’ve only heard a little about the man and have never met him in person, but from what I’ve seen so far, these attacks sound like him.”

“Agreed.” Dryden murmured absently, still staring at the map intently as if willpower alone could unlock the location of the two missing teens. “He’s bold, arrogant and cares little for those who get in his way. The previous attacks all sound like him. This new one however... it lacks the flair he’s known for.”

“Flair?” Gaddes spoke up, his voice practically cracking in outrage. “He sent two damn guymelefs after us! With accompanying melefs and TWO bloody squads of soldiers! That’s not flair! That’s overkill!”

“And yet Dilandau managed to carve his way through them with minimal damage to himself and managed to still spirit you all away.” The heir added with a smirk.

“I’m with Sideburns.” Merle jerked her thumb insolently in Gaddes’ direction just in case anyone wasn’t sure who she was referring to. “Any man who hires goons like that doesn’t have flair, he has ego issues.”

“There’s also the matter of why leave a flag of Astoria on the floor, there has to be some meaning behind it.” Dryden murmured almost to himself as he idly tapped his chin with a fingertip. “It could be a clue.”

“Or maybe your pet psycho stole the flag and didn’t have time to hide it.”

“Merle, while I will not deny that my brother has a past history of... overt aggression, please refrain from calling him such things. It doesn’t help move the situation along.” Allen rubbed his temples slightly as he spoke, ignoring the dark glare thrown in his direction by the cat girl. Gaddes nodded in agreement with the knight, feeling that he was the only one who should be able to call the brat such things, after all, he meant it affectionately.

“Yeah... Dilandau was pretty pissed off. If he was going to pull some stunt, it would more likely involve fire or a lot of corpses, not petty theft... and I’m not helping with that whole not a psycho thing so I’ll shut up now.” The sergeant sighed at the sharp look he received from Allen and the snickers from Merle. Dryden simply looked mildly amused.

“Well, if none of you think it’s Zaibach being all crazy again, then it’s got to be Basram.” Merle hissed, refusing to back down when her king’s life was on the line. “Maybe we should drag that damn Basram ambassador in here and make him talk.” The sharp click of her claws on the tabletop made it quite clear just how she was willing to loosen the man’s tongue. Both Gaddes and Regis took a step back from her, eyeing the bristling beastkin warily though the rest of the room remained unmoved.

It was Allen who stepped forward and gently took her hand in his, extricating her claws from the expensive wood and giving her a firm warning stare. He was at his wits end regarding these outbursts and the look on his face warned that should they continue, the angry kitten would find herself guarding the hallway rather than participating with the grownups.

“We cannot provoke a war with Basram, which will certainly happen if we assault their ambassador. Yes, we know that Basram most likely has them.” He cut in, interrupting Merle before she could blurt out another anger fuelled rant. “However, it’s a huge country and one which is clearly prepared to go to war once again over this.”

His blue eyes never wavered from hers and thought he sounded calm and collected, she could see the black rage burning in those azure depths. “What we need is proof of Basram’s involvement with the kidnapping. Once we have that, we can bring that to the ambassador and force the country to work with us rather than against us.”

Growling audibly, Merle snatched her hand back from those silken gloved fingers and returned the glare with one of her own.

“Why would they cooperate with us? They kidnapped them! They’re behind this!”

“Because if they don’t, they are admitting their own culpability to all of the other countries. Kidnapping a king is a serious offence and would spur the other nations into actively moving against Basram.” Dryden stated, his eyes never leaving the map as he deftly marked off locations which had already been searched and resident informants questioned. “King Enon might be as crafty as a hunted fox, but he’s no fool and wouldn’t risk the sanctions which would be levelled against him. His country is flanked by Freid, Egzardia as well as Astoria. None of those countries would handle rumours of his involvement in such crimes well.”

“Yeah well Fanelia won’t take it well either!” Merle couldn’t keep from butting in, her tail lashed from side to side as she spoke, the fur standing aggressively on end.

“I have no doubt regarding that.” Drydean acknowledged her with a nod of his head. “However, Fanelia lacks any sort of standing army. It was quite thoroughly wiped out when the country fell.”

“Yeah, can’t imagine who we have to thank for that.” She hissed, glaring at Gaddess who met her gaze with one just as hard.

“Would you just drop it already?” The sergeant snapped back at her. “We all know that you hate Dilandau’s guts and right now, I don’t care. What matters is that he and Van are together. If you want your king back, you’re going to have to help find Albatou as well.”

“Both of you calm down or leave the room.” Allen’s voice had that hard authoritative edge which left no room for argument. “We’re all on edge and this helps no one.” Both Merle and Gadden instantly backed off, their heads hung guiltily as they moved to opposite sides of the table with sullen steps. All were silent for a long moment as everyone wanted to make sure that the two truly were going to behave.

“We do know that two ships left that morning bound for Basram.” Millerna stated calmly, glancing over at Dryden who nodded thoughtfully.

“Yes, one bearing food and winter supplies” The heir apparent tapped the drawing of the harbour lightly with a fingertip, a thoughtful look on his face. “The other was a private merchant ship. Both were scheduled to depart at that time and were cleared.” He glanced over at his wife, his thick eyebrows rising slightly with interest. The look on her face was one he knew well and he was interested in seeing what ideas were coming together in her clever mind.

“They were cleared, but by who? We should speak to the harbour master and ensure that the vessels were indeed examined prior to departure. No... wait, it’s far too easy to simply check the correct information down for a handful of coins. Perhaps we can examine the habits of the investigators on duty that day and see if any of them suddenly came into a sudden windfall?”

“I can have my crew ask around.” Allen offered, the first spark of hope shining in his eyes since this newest nightmare had begun. “They’re already well known around the wharf and wouldn’t raise any suspicions with their questions. Believe it or not, they do on occasion understand subtlety.” There was perhaps the faintest hint of a smile on the edge of his lips and Gaddes nodded his head eagerly.

“Damn right! We’ll get to the bottom of this in no time!”

“Remember Gaddes, subtlety.” Allen cut in smoothly, giving the sergeant a knowing look. “No bar fights or threats of bodily harm. I expect you all to follow the law.”

Gaddes flashed his commander his best innocent grin which perhaps would have been a tad more convincing had he not been cracking his knuckles in anticipation. Finally! He was going to be doing something other than standing around and staring at a map!

“Just tell me who worked the harbours that day and where they like to hang out.” Mentally, he promised the missing albino that he’d be there soon to pull him out of this newest slice of hell. Guilt still rested heavily on his shoulders and he felt he owed the kid far more than a rescue. He owed the kid one HELL of a rescue! With explosions, sword fights and a high body count! Namely, anyone who so much as laid a finger on his damn brat. Yeah, that might help balance the scales a little.

“While you do that, I’m going to see if I can find out anything on my end.” Regis declared confidently, the look on his face was almost as driven as that of Gaddes, though he looked far less guilty. Several eyebrows rose in speculation at how eager the young Zaibach youth was to lend his aid, though few looked overly surprised. His fascination with the celebrity captain was already a source of prime gossip, feeding all sorts of rumours of secret trysts and perverse Zaibach customs. There was also the knowledge that in doing all that he could to help locate the hero of the Destiny War, perhaps he could pick his country up out of the dirt it was so deeply mired in.

Many still believed that Zaibach was simply playing at being defeated and that the country was waiting for it’s former enemies to drop their guard so they could rise once again. It was one of the reasons that the allies had all been in full agreement to collectively disarm the powerful country as well as impose several harsh bans which would strangle their technological advancement for years to come. No doubt the young lord was eager to see these strictures loosened due to his good behaviour.

“And what can you do on your end?” Merle snarked softly. “Call up your hidden legion of doppelgangers and assassins?” Rather than rising to the bait yet again, Regis simply favoured her with a cool smile.

“Hardly. I’m a friendly guy and people like to tell me things.” He glanced around the room and damn if Gaddes didn’t note that his _innocent_ face was much better than his own. “People aren’t going to talk to a Knight Caeli or Royals about their success in kidnapping a king and noble. But they might not watch their tongues so closely around someone from an _enemy_ country.”

Gaddes couldn’t help but give a low whistle of appreciation. As much as he didn’t want to like this interloper, he had to admit that the kid had a decent head on his shoulders. It was just too bad that he was too young and pretty... and Zaibachi... and fascinated with guymelefs as well as a certain hot tempered albino. Not that the sergeant really had any say in who the brat spent his time with... but dammit, he knew a rival when he saw one, and this kid practically screamed it. Though, was he really a rival now that Gaddes had willingly stepped out of the picture? More importantly, could he handle sitting back and watching Dilandau seduce this eager youth? The very idea made him want to strangle the blonde teen, but with effort... a lot of effort, he held himself back.

“Excellent, you get on that.” Dryden nodded his head, flashing the youth a brilliant smile. Giving the heir a respectful head bob, the young lord turned on his heel and left the room, eager to prove himself and his idol. No sooner had the door closed in his wake then Dryden sighed and ran his fingers through his already messy hair. “Damn kid has a spy network already... can’t say I’m surprised. He’s got far more ambition than his father in that regard.”

“Can we trust him?” Allen queried, casting an apprehensive look at the now closed door. “I have to admit that I’m rather biased against “helpful” Zaibach citizens.”

As much as he wanted to stay silent, Gaddes couldn’t bring himself to take any action which might hamper the rescue efforts and put the missing duo at even more risk.

“The kid worships the ashes Dilandau walks on.” Ugh, he felt dirty saying it. “He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his safety. If Regis says he’ll help, then I have no doubt that he’ll do anything within his power to do so. If it also ends up with him helping Van, then I doubt he’d see any problem since it would only make Zaibach look more reformed.”

Allen nodded his head thoughtfully though he didn’t look particularly happy about the idea of his little brother already having a fan base in place. Dryden on the other hand was watching Gaddes with renewed interest. He’d already taken note of the man’s well hidden intellect and cunning during their previous meetings. Coupled with his strange ability to keep the wild captain in check, Gaddes was proving to be a much more fascinating individual than he’d realized during the chaos of the war. As far as he was concerned, the sergeant bore greater attention.

“Alright then.” Standing up straight, Drydan looked over at the rest of the group, noting their harried looks and stress filled faces. “Everyone get a bit of rest and some food. I have reports to go over and a list of harbour guards to write up for you.

 

****

“Yeah? Well we didn’t want to drink your crappy beer! And your food sucks!” Ort yelled over his shoulder, glaring at the hulking figure of the innkeeper who stood in the doorway, his huge hands clutching an equally large club.

“Tell Sarah I love her!” Reeden called out, trying to see over the man’s shoulder into the inn, a hopeless task at this point, especially since Kio grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him away, following the rest of the group. “The other girls mean nothing to me!”

“Her name was Sandy, not Sarah.” Gaddes pointed out, his voice perhaps a tad louder than it needed to be, and Reeden winced at his words, throwing a rather guilty glance back in the direction of the tavern.

“Sandy... right... then who’s Sarah?”

“She was two taverns ago, the ... er... exceptionally intelligent young woman.” Riom added helpfully, holding his hands in front of his chest to pantomime rather large breasts. “We should go back there. I got the impression that for a few more gidaru, she might have done more than simply pour drinks.” Several of the men laughed uproariously and Pyle made to actually turn around and head back to the aforementioned tavern but Gaddes caught his shoulder and shook his head.

“It’s not all fun and games remember.” He advised, doing his best to keep his tone light and expression carefree. “We’re here on a job for the boss.”

“Yeah,” The red nosed crewman agreed readily enough, his spirits buoyed by the rather impressive amount of ale he’d already consumed on Allen’s tab. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while we do it.”

“C’mon Gaddes.” Ort butted in, slapping the darker crewman on the back hard enough to almost knock the wind out of him. “Live a little. This is way better than flea infested brothels or a couple of tugs in an alleyway. Let’s find a nice place, somewhere were the girls smell nice and do that fancy thing where they shave all over!”

“Woah!” Reeden’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the thought, his tan cheeks growing warm pink. “I wanna go to a place where they do that!”

Any other day, Gaddes would have happily agreed to indulge himself at their bosses expense. After all, it was a time honoured tradition to take advantage of situations like this, but since that night by the lake in Fanelia, whores just didn’t interest him. In fact, the only thing he wanted in his arms was a fiery young Zaibach youth with skin like cream and eyes of fire. Jeture, just thinking about him made the sergeant want to groan in desire, but it was a feeling he quickly and mercilessly squelched. He had a job to do, a brat to save and Jeture help him, a crew to keep in line.

“Guys, we’re here to do a job. Which one of you want to be the one to tell the brat that we’d have rescued him sooner, but we were too busy sampling the local whores to go find him?” Well, that certainly silenced the group and many guilty faces looked anywhere but at him as apologies were quietly mumbled.

“Yeah... we can get laid later guys... if it gets back to him that we screwed around, he’ll kick our asses.” Ort mumbled under his breath.

“Well, he’ll do something to our asses, but I don’t think it will be kicking.” Riom couldn’t help but blurt out, earning himself a dark glare from Gaddes as well as several loud coughs from the others.

“Riom, one look at your hairy ass would turn anyone towards women so stop wishing for the impossible.” Kio cut in before Gaddes could say anything he’d likely regret for the foreseeable future. “Our guy is supposed to be hanging around this street somewhere, spending a lot of gidaru he shouldn’t have. Let’s find him and lighten his purse a little... for Astoria of course.”

“For Astoria!” The crew cheered loudly, pumping their fists into the air. While their enthusiasm was commendable, their stealth and subtlety were not. It was going to take a miracle of Jeture to help them find the necessary information at this rate, making Gaddes wonder if perhaps he’d been given this job to simply get him out of Allen’s hair for a bit. The thought only served to further bolster his drive to learn the answers he was after. Only in being a vital member of this rescue could he hope to lessen that horrible knot of guilt sitting in his guts that had been festering since those gorgeous crimson eyes had begged him for love and assurance. He’d turned his back on Dilandau once, and look what it had gotten them. He wasn’t going to let the kid down a second time.

 ****

This tavern was called the Dragon’s Den, a rather fortuitous name considering who they were doing this for. It likely meant nothing, but still Gaddes couldn’t help but smile at the rather badly drawn dragon on the sign. The beast was practically little more than an angry ball of scales breathing orange ribbons... er... fire he supposed. Either way, it was their fifth one that night alone not to mention in as many days and he was pretty much done in. The ground was beginning to move rather stealthily every time he put his foot down, trying to trip him. It led to him staring at his feet and nearly walking into a post, then a barmaid, then a rather rotund patron who looked like he carried around carriages without horses for fun. Out of the three, the barmaid was the only one who appeared to be appreciative of his sudden arrival and her large blue eyes flashed invitingly.

“Hi!” He blurted out, suddenly forgetting that he was supposed to be pretending to be all suave and sober. “I’m looking for guys playing card games!” Really, his utter lack of sophistication was horrifying and he knew that if Allen was there, the knight would be shaking his head in shame. But Mr. Tall Blonde and obviously avoiding Gaddes since his brother had gone missing on his watch, wasn’t there. Instead, there was only his stalwart crew.... A quick glance showed Reeden racing out of the tavern, his hand over his mouth and his face turning decidedly green. Meanwhile, Ort had pulled a rather amicable barmaid onto his lap and was happily getting to know her better, which would be a good thing if the woman wasn’t clearly twice is age... at the most generous. Katz was leaning wearily against Kio, both barely conscious and Riom was out cold on the table already. As for the others, they’d already crawled over to the bar and were tossing back drinks as if they were dying of thirst. Alright, so he didn’t exactly have his stalwart crew... but he still had himself, and he was going to figure out who’d kidnapped his brat! Then he was going to drag them out back and beat the ever loving shit out of them!

The barmaid’s smile shifted from welcoming to downright inviting and she batted long lashes at him while arching her back in order to display rather ample and impressive cleavage.

“Do you have the gidaru? It’s fifty to get in.” As much as he wanted to play the suave slick gatherer of information, he couldn’t help but gape at the ridiculous price. Fifty gidaru!?!? Just to get into the game? That was ludicrous! He could rent a decent room WITH companionship and ale for that price... for a week! Still, this was their best bet so far, and really, it was Allen’s money.

“Fifty? Are you sure?” The unexpected voice at his side made Gaddes jump and possibly squeak in shock... that that he would admit it out loud. Spinning around, he saw Teo standing here his eyes narrowed in suspicion at the barmaid. Undaunted, she simply smiled back and motioned with her chin towards the rather hulking figure lurking by the door to the back room.

“You don’t have to pay if you don’t want to, but Udo will have some rather strong objections.” Both crewmen took a long look at the behemoth, each of them swallowing audibly.

“How did they get a melef in here?” Gaddes couldn’t help but murmur, estimating that the man, if he could even be called that, was over three times his weight, all of it solid muscle. They rippled beneath his mahogany skin as he moved, creating an anatomical road map that any painter would kill to study.

“Forget that, what do they feed that man!?” Teo breathed, awe filling his voice. “Did Voris have a twin?” The Freidian had been the largest man either of them had ever seen, but they were pretty sure that the title had just officially been passed on.

“Big brother more like it.” Alright, maybe they shouldn’t gawk at the guy, it wasn’t exactly professional of either of them, but damn! The man was a giant! “I think they feed him small dragons for brunch.”

“More likely a snack. He seems like a guy who likes his snacks.”

“Actually he grinds up the bones of cheap men to use in his bread.” The barmaid smiled sweetly at them both. Evidently overhearing the conversation, the aforementioned Udo grinned widely at them, displaying rather large strong teeth which were startling white against his dark Egzardian complexion.

“Pay the lady.” Teo stated, never taking his eyes off the giant. Nodding dumbly, Gaddes fumbled for his purse which held Allen’s mark. Neither men payed her much attention as she quickly jotted down the amount owing, then pressed the Knights seal into the paper, authorizing the debt. He really hoped she’d written down the correct amount, because honestly, he wasn’t taking his eyes off the meat mountain to verify it.

Hastily he scrawled his name on the bottom of the paper, hoping yet again that Allen wouldn’t freak out over this, but really, it was worth it just to see this guy. Gaddes was pretty sure that even the brat would be impressed... for about five seconds, then he’d try to pick a fight with the walking land mass.

“Let them pass Udo.” The barmaid barked in a surprisingly authoritative voice, making Gaddes suddenly reconsider her position. Damn woman probably owned the tavern or something. While it wasn’t overly common, since the war had left so many widows at loose ends, it was becoming less and less rare. Not that he minded, nosiree, he would have just appreciated a bit of warning. He’d have been much more polite... and perhaps spent less time staring at her breasts.

“Have fun boys.” She grinned at them as they walked past her, heading towards the door and it’s massive guardian. Gaddes couldn’t help but glance back at his crew, noting that none of them were in any shape to lend aid if the human wall decided to crush them for fun. All he had was Teo... brave scrawny Teo... well, he supposed that he could always throw the medic at the monster. It might slow him down for a second or two.

Favouring them with an ominous sounding grunt, Udo stepped aside and allowed them passage beyond the door. Both men scuttled through the entrance, neither one wanting to be left behind with the dark giant who seemed to be taking great pleasure in grinning widely at them. There was nothing pleasant in the smile.

Beyond the door, it was as if they’d stepped into another world. There was the smell of fine incense in the air, and rich tapestries decorated the walls with brilliant colours. The lighting was pleasant and provided by four wall sconces, one in each wall. Though they were filled with fragrant oil, they still made the room somewhat warm and stuffy, but that didn’t seem to be a problem for the nearly naked young women lounging about, some wearing little more than jewels which had been strategically hung about their bodies. Sultry, hungry eyes watched the two men as they entered and one rather curvy blonde slunk over to them, her hips rolling with every step. Behind him, he could hear Teo give a strangled sort of squeak and really, who could blame him? This woman was more than any of them could ever dream of affording, and she damn well knew it.

“Shall I take your cloaks?” Her voice was a low purr, almost reminding Gaddes of Dilandau’s silken tones when he was in a good mood. Teo couldn’t get undressed fast enough but Gaddes chose to keep his on hand. He’d long ago learned to always keep all articles of clothing near at hand. One never knew when one would have to make a rather spectacular and speedy getaway. Besides, the money Allen had given him, not to mention the mark seal were stashed in its various hidden pockets. If he lost that, there’d be hell to pay.

“Do let me know if you require... anything at all.” The woman purred yet again as another beautiful goddess appeared at their side, a flute of chilled wine in each hand. Jeture, no wonder it had cost so much to get in, he was pretty sure that anything he wanted could be provided instantly, no matter how weird. So this was how the 1% lived in Astoria. He could really get used to this.

“Think the boss knows about this place?” Teo hesitantly murmured, his dark eyes still fixed on the many examples of feminine beauty lounging about. Gaddes allowed himself a slight snicker as he stepped forward, bolstering his mental focus by envisioning a certain pale Adonis with lips that tasted like fire and vino. He’d sampled ambrosia, these women, while glorious in every possible way simply didn’t compare. Ok... they did, they really absolutely did... but dammit he missed his brat too much to take too much note.

“Let’s see, fine wine, beautiful scantily clad women doting upon us? Yeah, he likely is a business partner.” Alright, so that wasn’t exactly fair and he knew damn well that Allen was far too uptight to patron a place like this... but he was positive that the knight would definitely enjoy himself if he just let himself relax a little.

Taking a sip of the wine which was by far the most amazing vintage he’d ever tasted, full of subtle flavours which danced across his tongue, he looked at the focal point of the room.

In it’s very centre rested a large ornately carved wooden table with gold gilt decorating it’s edges. It was low to the ground, built in egzardian fashion, and surrounded by thick silken cushions for people to sit on. Most were occupied by what were clearly nobles judging by their ornate silken clothes, shining hair and mind boggling amounts of lace... it seemed to be in style this season judging by how it kept popping up everywhere. Gloved hands bedecked in heavy rings waved about as refined voices gossiped about various palace intrigues without a care in the world.

Not everyone at the table was Astorian. Gaddes quickly noted two egzardians, a man and woman sitting at opposite sides of the table from each other. Their dark skin gleamed with fine oil and their pale hair practically glowed in the lamplight. Both were draped in fine loose silks which hung about their slender bodies, accented by the occasional well cut jewel. The woman’s arms were decorated with white ink, forming intricate patterns across her skin in a rather fetching manner.

There was surprisingly enough, a man from one of the cat clans seated comfortably next to her, his large golden eyes surveying the assembled with wary amusement. Silver furred and wearing rather ornate leathers and silks, he was clearly a very well to do merchant. A young human girl clad only in jewels and sheer silk rubbed his shoulders as he chatted amicably with the egzardian woman about some sort of play being performed in town. His voice was low and had the faintest hint of a growl to it, though it was strangely pleasant to listen to.

There was an Astorian noble woman which was surprising to find in such a place. Her fine silks and lace were of course all tastefully arranged about her body and she wore only a discreet amount of jewellery as opposed to the other nobles who seemed determined to outdo each other. Her pale blue eyes glanced over at Gaddes and Teo, disregarding them as obviously servants and hardly warranting her attention. Then, there was a notable pause as recognition dawned in her eyes as she looked back at Gaddes, studying his face at length. He could tell by the slight tightening of her lips that she wasn’t thrilled to see him, though she remained silent in her opposition.

Lastly was their target, he was easy to spot because though he was as well dressed as the others, his ensemble lacked that odd sort of flowing unity the nobles possessed. His garnet ring clashed with the ruby stone set in his ear and the sky blue silks, while of fine make and cut simply didn’t match the belt around his waist. Individually, each piece was beautiful, but put together, there was something jarring about it and sweet Jeture he’d been spending far too much time around Allen to be able to notice things like this!

“Ah, excellent! Would you be the entertainment?” One of the older astorian nobles drawled, obviously more than a tad drunk on the chilled wines. He leered at Teo in particular, his gloved fingers toying with his moustache. “Come over here boy and put your talents to use.” Gaddes heard the medic swallow nervously, not wanting to get anywhere near the man, but also aware that refusal could be taken as an insult, and astorian’s never handled insult well, especially the nobles.

“Your eyesight is clearly in as poor shape as your purse Lord Mathers.” The merchant purred in amusement, his tail lazily stroking the thigh of the young girl. “They are here to hand over their no doubt ill gotten coin for our entertainment.” He grinned at them both displaying rather sharp teeth. “Come and sit, tell us your tales while you hand over your gidaru. It will make fine entertainment for all.” He patted one of the empty cushions next to him in offering and Gaddes took a deep breath before stepping forward.

Yeah, he’d planned on worming his way into an illicit gaming house tonight, but not one of this degree. This was rather far over his head and he was rather sure that he could easily gamble away the Schezar fortune if he wasn’t careful. It was a safe bet that more than money was at stake in these games. Already, he could see jewels piled in the centre of the table, as well as a tightly bound scroll bearing some sort of noble seal, a rather beautiful carving of a dancing girl which was likely worth more than Gaddes would see in a year of work, and a small crystal bottle of some purple liquid.

Each player had a collection of polished gambling stones in front of them, some had been elegantly carved into various shapes and all looked exquisite in their own way. In their hands were the accompanying cards, each one representing stones, strategies and conflicts they could place on the other players.

Like all good Astorians, Gaddes knew how to play Jeture’s Choice, he even had a deck of cards on him as well as his own much much simpler stones. He wasn’t even that bad at it and regularly won favours from various members of the crew in lieu of gidaru. Usually in the form of swapping watches or unfavourable duties. Still, he knew better than to be cocky here. The way many of these people held their cards was downright predatory and he knew that they’d love nothing better than to fleece his upstart ass out of everything he was worth, and then some.

“Kid, you are sooo going to owe me.” He muttered to himself as he reached into his cloak and pulled out the small pouch containing is deck and stones. Teo moved to a cushion conveniently next to their target and drew his own deck, preparing for the fight of his life. The two had played pairs before during games, isolating and eliminating their opponents before inevitably turning on each other, but they likely weren’t the only ones who were going to adopt this strategy. At least in their defence, they weren’t playing to win, merely to endure long enough to get the information they needed and by Jeture, this had better be the right harbour guard!

“What’s the opening gambit?” He asked as he shuffled his cards and then began to lay them out in the appropriate patterns, noting absently that the placement actually looked a lot like the ones Hitomi used when manipulating her tarot cards.

“Twenty gidaru, or equal value. Consecration is in play as well as the dragon.” One of the Astorian nobles stated somewhat blandly as he placed a card with a shining sun inked in gold to the side and claimed one of the merchants stones. The cat man moaned dramatically at the loss of his piece but then countered with a battlefield and a card bearing a temple, widening his range of play and allowing him to bring in another piece.

“A priest? That’s a bold move Rhasha.” The noblewoman crooned, her smile seemingly guileless though Gaddes didn’t trust the glint of avarice in her eyes. “A powerful piece to be sure, but one with a fatal weakness.”

“Without risk, the reward loses it’s flavour my Lady. Surely one such as you would agree.” His answering smile showed far too many teeth but the noble woman didn’t appear at all fazed by it.

“Too bold Rhasha.” One of the men, a tall blonde middle aged man with a long trailing moustache and tightly coiffed curls in his hair protested. “It is hardly your place to speak of us things.” A he spoke, his bejewelled hands placed his own stones down, placing the cat merchants priest in danger while simultaneously harassing a scout controlled by the egzardian man.

“If I do not, then who will? Clearly the woman’s husband has failed to keep her in her place.” Triangular ears flicked back slightly and those large eyes narrowed in silent challenge as the cat man glared coolly at the woman.

“I believe it was in attempting to keep her in her place which ultimately resulted in the death of poor Lord Gandern.” The older noble who’d first propositioned Teo chuckled, hardly bothered by the biting comments, lending them the feel that this sort of conversation was the norm.

Feeling more than a little out of place, Gaddes drew his card from his deck and placed it into it’s first position. A knight! Clearly the fates were favouring him, with the dragon in play, it was one of the more powerful cards. Feeling emboldened, he drew out his guymelef stone and placed it in the centre of the small skirmish, obliterating the stones with ease and a decent roll of the dice.

For a moment, the table was silent, several pairs of eyes staring at the upstart in shock.

“Well, someone knows how to certainly make an entrance!” The egzardian man laughed heartily, motioning for Gaddes to claim his winnings for the round. “Let’s see if you can keep up the momentum.” Leaning across the table, he held out his hand to the sergeant who shook it without hesitation. Damn, the man might not be that huge, but his grip was like iron. “I’m Vigo, this is my lovely sister Vera. I’ve never seen you before. What’s might I call you?”

Suddenly Gaddes really really wished that he’d planned this out better. Every idiot who lurked around the docks knew the names Vigo and Vera. They were behind just about every shady deal and questionable enterprise you could imagine. These two people were cold, ruthless and ruled their underworld with iron fists... and apparently liked playing Jeture’s Choice. Gaddes really wasn’t sure if he’d drunk too much, or not enough to deal with this new turn of events.

“No one of consequence.” He sputtered, doing his best to regain that illusion of confidence. “Call me Amano.” Hitomi used to talk about an Amano all the time. He was someone Hitomi had always looked up to. Cool, handsome, skilled and always said the right things at the right time, he sounded like the sort of guy Gaddes wouldn’t mind being... you know, if he ever found himself on the Mystic Moon. Besides, chances of any of these guys knowing a guy going by that name were pretty slim.

“Well then Amano, though meeting you seems to have lightened my purse, I certainly intend to get to know you better. Favour another round?” Vigo smiled warmly at him and Gaddes found himself wondering if the man wore that same smile when he ordered someone’s death... or their kidnapping. Jeture’s balls! This guy might actually know all about the kidnapping! Hells, he might have even been behind it! Crap crap crap. This just got way bigger than any of them had thought! He was going to have to be insanely careful from here on out.

“Another drink my friend?” A prettily freckled redhead placed a glass of chilled wine in front of him as well as a small bowl of grapes and cheese. The combination smelled heavenly and the sergeant knew better than to refuse this hospitality. Thanking the girl, he allowed himself a generous swallow of the delicate wine and popped a grape in his mouth. Oh sweet gods above below and all around, it was delicious! He’d never had enough giradu to spend on such a luxury but after this, he was damn well going to do his best to ensure that he set enough aside to indulge! Tart, sweet... it was both rolled into a perfectly proportioned package and he couldn’t get enough!

Stones were returned to their owners and cards reshuffled for the next round. Gidaru were placed in the pot, though the cat man seemed to prefer jewels, tossing in two pretty saphires. As the winner, Gaddes was permitted to draw first. A maiden... not an impressive card to begin with. Damn. Looking at his stones, he drew a pawn and placed it on the table to the side in a rather unassuming position then held his breath.

Jeture didn’t seem to be favouring anyone this round. Vigo drew a page, Vera found herself placing a spy in play and followed Gaddes’ example, keeping her piece on the edge of the table where others would hopefully forget about it. Teo drew a worker which actually was a decent beginning card seeing as how it would allow him to upgrade any defences later in the game. Rhasha placed a knight errant on the board, the most powerful piece so far, though he was quickly countered by Lady Gandern’s bandit. One of the other lords put a storm in play, forcing the other players to regroup on their next draws, unable to attack until they had some form of protection over their pieces.

It was a fascinating game and Gaddes was deeply intrigued at the various styles of play. One of the Lords seemed to heavily favour throwing various causality cards into the mix, creating storms, fires, a plague nearly wiped out several of Gaddes’ pieces though thankfully he had a priest and temple in play at the time to counter the worst of the effects. Two of the nobles were taken out of play with that, their armies obliterated.

Teo unleashed a dragon onto the board, causing no end of chaos, forcing Gaddes and Rhasha to team up temporarily and deal with it before Vera’s long forgotten spy murdered Gaddes general, throwing most of his strategies into disarray.

With every move the ante was upped, the pot passing back and forth regularly though always growing. Gaddes found himself gnawing on his lower lip as his previous winnings now filled the pot as well as a rather impressive amount of his own coin. Jeture’s Choice was a cruel game which heavily favoured sheer luck in the opening though required cunning and guile more and more as the game progressed. It only took a single foolish move to cause Jeture to withdraw his blessings from the players and when that happened, disaster struck.

Still reeling from the loss of his general, Gaddes studied the pieces he had in play as well as the configuration of his cards. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one and banter started up once more as everyone did their best to either subtly feel each other out, or purely intimidate the other players.

The two lords who’d been wiped out by the plague their fellow had unleashed had left already, claiming their stones and cards, leaving behind a small fortune. The plague bearer himself was now finding himself hard pressed as the other players seemed to have taken the move rather personally and had all dedicated a portion of their efforts to destroying all of his pieces. He was now down to a simple bandit band and a Lord walled up behind a castle. Teo was eyeing those cards with interest and Gaddes could see that he had an infiltrator card in play, though he wasn’t sure which piece was represented by it, and also had enough causality cards to destroy Mr. Plagues fortifications.

The Harbour guard, who had had since learned was named Wallace Preston was speaking avidly with the medic, the two no doubt plotting some off colour double attack. Though he desperately wanted to pump the man for information, the look Teo shot him told that he had the situation well in hand.

“You play well Amano.” Vera smiled at him as she idly toyed with a guymelf game piece, her golden eyes glittering with interest. “Rather unorthodox style, but it seems to suit tonight’s game. I find it intriguing.” The piece brushed her red painted lips rather enticingly and Gaddes felt his heart stutter for a moment with a sudden surge of desire. No! Bad libido! He knew this game well enough, he’d seen it played out hundreds of times before. Here she was acting all seductive, hoping to lure him off guard, getting his blood heading in a more southerly direction and claim an easy win from him. Hah! He wasn’t going to fall for that! Though... he had to admit that she was damn good at it and yeah... this room was starting to get warm... very warm...

Ugh, no, he had to concentrate!!! Doing his best to tear his gaze away from the tantalizing sight, he stared pointedly at his own cards, working out various configurations he could bring into play with his remaining cards and pieces. There was always his remaining knight and retinue, they were quick and manoeuvrable, not to mentioned strong, but Vera still had her merchant fleet in play. Attacking them would leave him wide open and he knew she still had a damn assassin lurking around. Aside from his small arsenal of palace destroying causalities, Teo’s dragon was still stirring up shit with Vigo’s army, having gotten lucky and taken out his guymelef piece early on. It was also leaving the man’s flank open to predation from Wallace, something the man was quickly putting himself in position to do.

Glancing around at his own pieces, he noticed his maiden still sitting off to the side, forgotten by all, including himself. Doing his best to restrain a grin, Gaddes thought about all of those lovely warrior women hidden throughout the ranks of Zaibach’s army and began to pull in his pieces, taking up a defensive position even as he sent his knight moving to flank those damn merchants. It was a bold move and he was sure that Dilandau would have been impressed with it. He could actually picture the brats eyes glittering with delight at the thought of pulling down merchant ships and setting them ablaze.

As the final battle began in earnest, the fleet began to suffer heavy damage until as predicted, Vera’s assassin appeared, poised to slaughter his knight. Dice were rolled, damage was dealt but before the brave knight and his men fell, Gaddes revealed his final move, playing several cards at once and elevating his fair and forgotten maiden into a warrior. His formerly retreating stones formed up around her and together with the nearly fallen knight, they destroyed the assassin and pulled down the convoy.

It was impossible to resist letting out a loud whoop of victory as the last ship fell to the earth and it was echoed by Wallace as Teo’s cards opened up the gates of the fortress, allowing the guards men to enter and sack it.

Meanwhile, Vigo’s army finally crushed the damn dragon despite Teo’s best efforts, but fell to a sudden storm courtesy of Rhasha. With the only fortress destroyed, everyone began to feel the bite as time became of the essence. The cat man had been playing rather conservatively up until now and Gaddes wasn’t the only one to see several powerful pieces suddenly step into play, the least of which was a floating fortress, allowing his pieces to move across the board with impunity. The storm he’d sent had little effect on the floating monolith and all anyone could do was watch as one after another, the players were destroyed.

Gaddes and Vera exchanged rueful smiles and he shrugged apologetically. If he hadn’t destroyed her merchant fleet, she might have been able to take him down. Oops.

“I believe that is game.” The feline merchant rose to his feet, taking a moment to stretch out his legs while motioning for his servant girl to fetch his winnings from the table. The pile was most impressive and could likely set a man up for several years of comfortable living.

Gaddes bid Allen’s gidaru a sad farewell, hoping that Teo at least had gotten some decent information, because he was pretty sure that the boss wasn’t going to be thrilled that they’d gambled away a rather impressive sum of money. It was somewhat comforting to see the medic chatting amicably with the guard as everyone gathered up their pieces, exchanging a few unfelt congratulations with the merchant as well as a few pleasantries with each other.

“You must join us again Amano.” Vigo chuckled, his heavy hand falling onto the crewman’s shoulders. “You play a most interesting game and I must admit, I’ve never seen anyone use that strategy before. A warrior woman... who would have thought of such a thing!”

“I trust you won’t mind overly much if I use that trick in future games.” Vera purred, still favouring him with an inviting smile he wouldn’t trust for even a moment.

“Be my guest.” He gave her a slight bow. “Though I’m not sure how many games I can afford. We came into this money by pure luck, and it seems that our luck has run out for tonight.” Neither Egzardian looked at all put out by this prospect and Vigo even went so far as to laugh in delight.

“Ah, that is hardly a problem. We also use favours as coin. Actions taken on our behalf, no questions asked.” Now the smile was a little less friendly a whole lot more predatory. “Keep that in mind. I’m sure that we could always find a use for a man of your many skills.” Unsure how to take that, Gaddes nodded his head and smiled in return, ensuring that his expression was far more pleasant. He did want to make it out of here alive after all.

“Thank you for the wonderful evening.” He said in lieu of any formal commitment. “It was a good game.” Taking a moment for Teo to get his cloak from one of the pretty girls, the two men slipped out of the back room and into the tavern proper.

“When did the sun come up?” Teo asked, sounding about as stunned as Gaddes felt. Of the rest of the crew, there was no sign. Hopefully they’d gotten bored and wandered back to the ship, or more than likely, to a brothel.

“We’d better get back before they think we’ve been robbed and start looking in the sewers for our corpses.” Both men laughed nervously, still fully aware that they weren’t out of danger yet. On the up side, they had nothing more to steal.

“The boss is going to kill us for gambling everything away.” The medic murmured, though he did flash Gaddes a slight wink, making it clear that the night’s work hadn’t been wholly in vain. That gave the sergeant some relief, though not much. That was an awful lot of coin to lose and now they had a rather good lead on who was behind transporting and likely capturing the two teenagers. If they weren’t careful, the sewers really would become their final home.

Stepping out of the tavern and onto the deserted early morning street, they could see that the sun was barely raising over the water and the only people about were either late night revellers such as themselves, or industrious shopkeepers, preparing themselves for a busy day.

Thankfully, they weren’t too far from the dock where Crusade rested, but neither of them followed the straight path which would lead them to warm beds and a hot breakfast. There was a good likely hood that they were being followed by Vigo and Vera’s men. Neither sibling seemed gullible enough to wave off two strangers wandering into their game hall with a large amount of money and few tales as to how it had been acquired. They would want to know who they were dealing with, and if this truly was a one time windfall, or if the two were hoping to move into their territory.

They’d only walked for a couple of blocks when a rather elegant carriage pulled up alongside them, pulled by two rather pretty dun coloured stallions. The coachman paid them no mind, but the door opened up and a small step rolled out, inviting them in.

“Come come, the longer you wait, the better the chances of your shadows realizing that you’re about to vanish.” It was Rhasha’s voice, tinged with a hint of amusement. The two men shared a look of confusion before Gaddes shrugged slightly. Even if they turned down the offer for a ride, it would likely be reported back that they’d met with the cat man after the game, marking them as partners who’d likely helped him win. Either way, they were fucked, at least this way they could rest their feet a little.

The inside of the carriage was comfortable and opulent. Not as much as the Royal Carriage, but it was close. Once again, they found themselves facing the feline merchant as he sat on his padded bench, the young girl curled up at his side, gently stroking his elegant tail.

“I must commend you both, that was one of the most interesting games of Jeture’s Choice I’ve played in a while. Without your combined efforts, I would have been hard pressed to pull off such a victory.”

“So glad we could help.” Gaddes didn’t bother keeping the sarcasm from his voice. That had been an insanely expensive game and he still had explaining the expenses to the Boss to look forward to.

The cat man smiled at them, chuckling slightly and his lips parting just enough to show the tips of his sharp teeth.

“Now it is my turn to return the favour.” With that, the girl reached behind her seat and pulled out an elegantly carved wooden box. It looked heavy and Gaddes could see her struggling with it’s weight but though he wanted to help, he kept his hands to himself. He had no idea what this girl meant to the merchant and he wasn’t about to make a new enemy if he didn’t have to. “Inside, you will find the amount of gidaru you entered the game with, plus a little extra to sweeten your ears.”

Gaddes, who had been happily reaching for the box found himself freezing at those words. Yeah... there was always a damn catch with these people. Carefully, he sat back and studied the beastman, searching for any hint of a threat to either him or the crew. Nonplussed with the sudden cold shoulder, the merchant continued.

“I know who you are Gaddes, Sergeant of the Crusade. The others will likely learn of that soon enough and act to cover their tracks more thoroughly, not to mention take steps to silence any further investigation. I know you’re seeking answers regarding the disappearance of Van Fanel and that Zaibach demon. Oh don’t bother to try to hide it, it’s practically written on your face.” He smile grew a tad wider. “I also have many friends within the palace who have mentioned that you and the pale captain are quite... close.” Gaddes did his best not to bristle at the insinuation. There was no proof anywhere that they’d behaved in any way which was improper... not that the brat would care. Still, he didn’t like being put on the spot like this.

“While I cannot give you all the details you are seeking, I can tell you that three ships of note left port that morning.” That got Gaddes’ attention seeing as how by Dryden’s reports, there’d been only two ships bound for Basram. “Ah, I can see that this is news to you.” The beastman purred, leaning forward slightly. “Consider that a gift, the rest of my information will require payment. Thankfully, it is something you are well equipped to provide for me.”

“If you know who I am, you know that I’m not going to cause any problems for the Schezar’s or their allies.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Yeah... and Gaddes had some lovely land in the Valley of the Dragons to sell him. “I have a son.” The merchant continued. “Young and impetuous, with far more energy than is helpful and none of it focused on numbers like a good merchant. Instead, he favours battle and has become rather skilled with the sword.” Beginning to get an idea where this was going, Gaddes simply nodded his head, allowing the man to continue.

“I have ensured that he’s had the best teachers I could provide, but I fear that without proper discipline and goals, he will end up amounting to little more than a sellsword.” This was apparently a bad thing judging by the set of the man’s ears and the way he practically spit out the word. “I would see my son be given the best opportunities possible, but fear that there are many closed doors for people like us. Most countries see us as little better than animals and with rumours of a possible war brewing to the south, I worry that he will be swept up in dreams of glory and treated as little more than an expendable tool.”

“That’s understandable.” Gaddes could well sympathize with the man’s plight. He’d seen firsthand how beastkin were treated outside of Astoria and Fanelia. It wasn’t pretty and he didn’t wish that on anyone. For a kid who’d likely grown up knowing only luxury and easy living, he’d be either sold into slavery or killed as a best case scenario. Hell, the kitten likely wouldn’t even know what hit him.

“I want my son to be numbered among those chosen to pilot the zaibach guymelefs.” Even though he’d been halfway expecting to hear this, actually hearing it said out loud was no less shocking. Of all the presumption! While Gaddes didn’t see a difference between human and beastkin, at least not on any important level, he knew that the nobility would never tolerate such an affront. Only knights were allowed to pilot the great machines. Wealthy merchant or not, the nobles wouldn’t permit a beastkin among their ranks.

“I’ve heard much of this Dilandau Albatou, beyond what is known of his zeal for battle. He had among his elite team a beastman and treated the man no different from the others. This dog man held military rank, piloted one of the most advanced guymelef on the planet and accompanied the young captain into battle, even sacrificing his life bravely. I believe that for all his faults, Captain Albatou would give my son a fair chance to learn how to pilot. That is all I ask. Give him a chance to prove himself.”

“There’s more to it than that you realize.” Gaddes’ voice was low and cautious. Despite the moving words, he knew that this was much bigger than a simple job refferal. There always was with people like this. “To even begin to learn, he’d be knighted, live at the palace and be rubbing elbows with kings, queens and people of all levels of influence. People not even wealthy merchants can deal with easily. Even if he fails, he’d still be a knight, something he could pass on to his children, and their children.” Yeah, got ya.

To his credit, Rhasha didn’t flinch at all, instead he simply smiled at the revelations.

“And is it not long overdue for a member of the beast clans to be on equal ground with the humans? This is our world as much as it is yours. Give my son a chance to prove himself as a warrior. I promise you will not be disappointed.” He felt for the man, he really did. His kid was going to be walking boldly into danger with no protections in place to help him out. Also, personally he hated how the beastkin were treated on the whole. From Merle being treated like a pet to seeing endless lines of slaves on the block whenever they visited foreign ports, it was all the same. The beastkin never seemed to catch a break.

“I can’t promise anything, but I will talk to Dilandau about giving your son a fair shot. If he see’s something in the kid worth training, then we’ll go from there.” It seemed to be a safe enough bargain. “You’re right, the captain only cares about skill, not race. So long as your kid gives it his all, then Captain Albatou will do all he can to see your kid piloting a guymelef. There’s just one problem... we don’t know where he is.”

Two could play at this game and Rhasha’s smile grew much wider and feral as he drank in the sergeants words.

“The third ship which left port that morning was a private vessel belonging to Lord Vereth. The logs state that his wife was using it for a tour of their family lands in the south, though I spoke with the fair Lady two days ago when I was delivering some jewels she’d requested I procure. The poor dear has been quite ill and unable to attend court. Travelling in her current state is quite out of the question, especially with such a threat rising up as Basram going rogue.”

The Lords name wasn’t familiar, but that didn’t mean anything. Gaddes didn’t know the names or faces of most of the court, but he knew people who did... a lot of people. Granted, this didn’t tie them to Basram at all from what he could see. Oh Jeture, please let this be the lead they were looking for. They had so little to go on right now, and every day they wasted placed the two kids even further away from rescue. It also raised the likelihood that they were dead.

“I will of course expect you to verify this information, so don’t worry about causing me insult by doing so. So long as you hold to your end of the bargain, it is in my best interest to ensure that the young captain is found and returned to his duties. The sooner, the better my son’s chances of survival.”

“Enlightened self interest?” He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at this though inwardly he was giddy with delight at having found a potential ally in this mess. Especially one as well connected as this merchant.

“My dear Gaddes, is there any other kind?”

 

 

“Move over, I want to go to sleep.” Dilandau snapped irritably as he brushed damp hair back from his face while giving Van a rather impressive imperious look. Clearly he was used to having people scramble to follow his orders because he honestly looked surprised when Van simply shifted a little in order to glance over his shoulder at the albino.

“I’m not sleeping with you.” Despite their enforced proximity to each other, he’d already spent a week practically hip to hip with the other teen and had little desire to share the already cramped bed. There was barely enough room for Van himself, and Dilandau had several inches on him... not that he was counting.

Naturally, it didn’t take long for the hot tempered teenager to get over his initial shock and fix Van with an impressive glare, clearly not about to take no for an answer.

“Well I’m not sleeping on the floor like some animal.” He snapped back with a rather impressive sneer, proving that though he was bruised and battered mentally from his experiences, he was by no means beaten. It figured that he’d find his damn spine again right when Van wanted to try to sleep. This only added further proof to the idea that Dilandau was the reason people considered Draconians to be bringers of misery.

“Well, technically you ARE my pet right? So you should be happy to sleep at the foot of my bed.” He was just tired enough that he didn’t even feel bad for saying it, though in hindsight, it likely wasn’t his wisest choice of words.

“Do I look like your fucking cat girl?” Yup, not his best choice of words at all. “Move over before I feed you to the damn lizard.”

“There isn’t enough room and I’m not about to snuggle with you on this tiny cot!” Van started to roll over in order to properly glare at the dragonslayer but his next breath came out as a sharp yelp due to Dilandau grabbing the edge of the thin mattress and yanking it out from beneath Van, nearly sending him to the floor in a heap.

“Fine, keep the cot.” Oh he was going to beat that smirk off that stupid pale face if it was the last thing he did!

“What in the name of all the Gods of Gaea is your problem!?” Van was on his feet the instant he recovered his balance, glaring at Dilandau nose to nose, meeting that crimson stare without flinching. “I’m not your enemy right now! So stop trying to make my life harder than it is!”

“Then stop being an asshole!” Dilandau hissed back. “You want the cot so bad? Fine, it’s yours, but the mattress is mine.”

“I thought this whole anchor thing was supposed to make you my slave or something.” Van hated to play that card, but right now, Dilandau needed to be reminded that he was the one who’d started this game so he’d damn well better remember to play by the rules. Oh who was he kidding? Since when had Dilandau ever followed any rules?

“It means that I’m your weapon, not your bitch.”

“Could have fooled me after how you acted with Shroden!” That bard hit too close to home and Van immediately wished that he could take those words back when he saw the way Dilandau flinched back. For a moment disgust warred with horror in those eyes and the young king really wanted to kick himself for taking it way too far. All he needed now was for Dilandau to lose control and attack him. Then they would know that he wasn’t the dragonslayer’s anchor and Gaddes’ life would be in danger, not to mention the punishment Dilandau would likely receive for daring to lie to his “Masters”.

Instead, those crimson eyes narrowed dangerously, though rather than try to murder his rival, Dilandau instead pushed him firmly out of the way, placed the mattress back on the cot, then lay down on it, taking care to use up every inch of possible space he could with his slender body.

“Fuck you Fanelia.” The words were spat out in a low warning voice. “I hope he gets bored with me and decides to take you for a few rounds once he’s done torturing us. Then maybe you’ll learn that you’re not a fucking king here. You’re just a lab rat like the rest of us.” He wasn’t sure what was more sickening, the very real possibility of that threat becoming a reality, the fact that Dilandau was already living it, or the pain beneath those harsh words. Dammit, how could Dilandau always manage to make him feel like the bad guy? He was the one who’d just had his bed stolen! Still, he couldn’t get away from that niggling awareness that this latest altercation was all on his head and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling in the least.

“Fine... we’ll share the cot.” He couldn’t quite keep the sullen grumble out of his voice, though it wasn’t for lack of trying.

“You had your chance, the cot is mine. I claim it, go steal your own.” Long slender fingers gripped the thin pad tightly and Van knew better than to try to pry them loose.

“We’re going to need all the warmth we can get and there’s no blankets.” Van pointed out. “Plus we’re supposed to be getting along, remember?”

“I haven’t slit your throat yet. I call that getting along.”

“Could you maybe stop threatening my life?”

“Could you maybe stop being an asshole?” Well, this wasn’t going anywhere. Clearly words weren’t going to sway the albino, but really, that was hardly surprising. The pale warlord had always preferred action over talk after all. Refusing to be bullied, Van boldly sat down on the edge of the cot and gave Dilandau a shove. It wasn’t hard enough to try to knock him off, but it made his intentions clear. Move over.

For several shoves, it looked as if Dilandau might actually continue to fight him over the matter, but finally, with a rather heavy and much put upon sigh, the dragonslayer shifted just enough to allow Van to lay on the outermost edge of the cot. So long as he didn’t take any deep breaths, he should be fine.

 

“Gatti!” The name cut through the haze of sleep but it was the sharp jab to his ribs which truly woke him up. What the? Blinking crusty eyes, it took several moments to try to bring the world back into focus, quickly followed by a desperate attempt to bring his brain into working order. He was still in a cold unpleasant cell, buried deep beneath the earth halfway across Gaea and being held by a madman. Worse, he was laying on a tiny cot with Dilandau Albatou wrapped intimately in his arms. Truly, this was one of his most horrific and bizarre nightmares ever.

The air was filled with a chemical stink which seemed to cling to everything and there was an almost damp chill which clung to his skin, making him shiver. The thin shift which had been provided offered little protection from the cold, but where Dilandau’s body touched his, there was a delicious warmth which encouraged him to snuggle closer to the sleeping dragonslayer.

It seemed that he wasn’t the only one to notice the unpleasant temperature because Dilandau was shaking in his arms, though a faint sheen of sweat beaded on his skin. Long pale arms were wrapped firmly around his abdomen, holding him close and surprisingly strong fingers clutched at him with bruising force as the fierce warlord snuggled closer, trying to bury himself against Van. A soft pained whimper tore it’s way past those delicate rose tinted lips and snowy white lashes fluttered, tickling Van’s chest.

“Miguel....Shesta...” Oh no. He’d been with Dilandau long enough to recognize one of his nightmares beginning and knew that if he didn’t stop it quickly, the albino would be screaming and thrashing like a madman. It wasn’t just the physical danger Van was worried about, though chances of the albino hurting himself were rather high. More, it was the ever present guards, always watching, ready to report every little detail to their captors.

“No! Get away from them! Don’t hurt them! Gatti pull back!” The voice was gaining volume as well as desperation, and Van couldn’t help but think of it as a final warning that if he didn’t wake up the sleeping youth in the next few moments, it was all going to come tumbling down around them.

Another sharp jerk nearly tossed the shocked king off the narrow cot and he grunted softly as a knee collided with his thigh, rather dangerously close to his crotch as Dilandau twisted sharply with a desperate moan, one of his hands reaching out as if to grab hold of someone.

Thinking quickly, Van decided to go with his old standby and began running his fingers through those soft silvery white locks of hair, gently stroking the scalp beneath as he hummed softly under his breath. Another fearful whimper met his efforts as Dilandau continued to thrash and call out for his doomed men. It was rather awkward to think that here he was, trying to comfort the person who’s men he’d slaughtered, but what choice did he really have at this point?

Up above, he could hear the footsteps of approaching guards and knew that they’d heard Dilandau crying out. Worse, there was a rumbling growl from the dragon as it began to react to the albino’s agitation.

“Even in sleep, you’re a pain in the butt.” He mumbled, somewhat impressed with the consistency of this strange and unwelcome ability. His only reply were the names of the slayers murmured with growing distress and volume as Dilandau began to thrash in earnest.

“Hey, wake up. You’re attracting attention.” Despite his attempts to keep his voice soft, it still carried far more than he wanted and he focused on continuing to hold the trembling body close to his own, his fingers tangling slightly as he stroked those silken locks.

“Stop! Get away from them! I’ll kill you!”

“Dammit Dilandau, wake up! The guards are coming!” This time his hiss was louder but it was conveniently masked by the growing growls radiating from the cage next to them. Apparently the dragon didn’t like being woken up anymore than Van did. It seemed that Dilandau was pissing everyone off this morning. Oh that boded so well for their day.

Realizing that he had little choice unless he was going to just haul back and slap his bed mate, Van tightened his grip on Dilandau’s hair and gave that delicate looking head a good rough shake. Most likely, he’d just pulled several muscles in the other teens neck but it was worth it in the end because Dilandau gave a sharp gasp of pain and shock as his eyes opened up and stared into Van’s own.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Dilandau to suddenly twist himself free of the king’s grip and throw himself bodily off of the cot with a rather startled squawk. Crimson eyes were wide as saucers as they stared into Van’s own warm brown orbs and he could practically hear the dragonslayer’s heart pounding against his ribs as the teenager struggled to separate dream from reality.

“You were having a nightmare.” If nothing else, he’d learned not to draw too much attention to any perceived weakness in Dilandau. It simply wasn’t worth the ensuing headache. Instead, he kept his tone matter of fact, carefully keeping any concern or pity free from his words.

“I think I’m still having one...” Dilandau murmured softly to himself. Van was rather sure that he hadn’t intended the king to hear him so he played ignorant. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought that half a hundred times already.

One of the guards approached their cell and snapped at them in that sharp sounding language of theirs, giving the bars a warning strike with his staff. Without missing a beat, Dilandau spun around and snapped something back that didn’t sound at all friendly.

Van didn’t need to see the guards face to know that he was angry. The way the man’s body stiffened and how he gripped his engergist tipped staff with suddenly white knuckles were clues enough.

“Could you not piss off our guards?” Van couldn’t quite keep the exasperation from his voice. “I’d rather not have my breakfast swimming in urine... again.” While Dilandau might have enjoyed a drug fuelled haze from his time in captivity aboard the leviship, Van had had to be fully aware for that hellish trip and there was no way he was going to add to the unpleasantness if he could avoid it.

“Psht, Shroden wants us healthy for his experiments.” At least one of them was confident. “These guards don’t have the balls to move against him.”

“Yeah, well let’s not tempt them. Besides, I’d rather they kept their guard down around you. They seemed to like you well enough last night.”

“Last night I was nothing more than a half brain dead puppet stoned out on sensation. Today I’m going to pull these bastards apart piece by piece until there isn’t a recognizable twitching chunk left of them.” Dilandau grinned widely at the guard. It really wasn’t one of his sanest smiles and even Van couldn’t mock the guard for taking a step back, brandishing his staff in warning. Clearly one didn’t need to understand the language to be able to recognize murderous intent.

“Come back here and go to sleep. You can give the guards panic attacks later. We’re likely going to need as much rest as we can get.” This time it was Dilandau’s turn to give a shudder of disgust. He didn’t even bother to hide his revulsion as he glanced back at Van laying on the bed, no doubt remembering their rather intimate physical entanglement.

“I’ve had enough rest.” He stated in a flat voice, his face and voice far too carefully neutral to be natural. “I think I’ll just train.” Irritation warred with amusement inside Van as he pictured the dragonslayer doing push-ups, sit ups and maybe swinging from the cage bars like hyperactive monkeykin. Was he really so bad to sleep with? Er... share a bed with? Nope, even that sounded scandalous.

“The sun won’t even be up for another few hours.” Van huffed, flopping back down on the pallet and doing his best to ignore the still glowering guard beyond the bars. “Nothing is going to happen until then, that much I can guarantee, so lay down and rest before that guard energizes the bars just to knock you out.”

He could practically see Dilandau, nervously worrying his lower lip with his teeth or perhaps biting one of his knuckles. It was an amusing habit he’d noted, usually coming up whenever the albino was nervous or upset about something. It was easy to picture those shrewd ruby eyes studying the guard, the cot and Van in turn, weighing his options versus the pain of being electrocuted.

The soft sigh he heard was hardly surprising, nor was the sound of Dilandau shuffling around, likely beginning his morning workout. Yup, it was good to know that sleeping with him ranked below the threat of electrocution. Clearly the guard thought so too because he snapped something out which sounded even less pleasant than the first warning.

“Dammit Dilandau!” He really hated that the albino was driving him to curse. “If you don’t settle down, both of us are getting shocked and I’d rather deal with today healthy as I can be. Now get over here and lay down.”

“I can’t!” The words were spat out with enough venom to kill a hundred serpents. Patience, Van chided himself mentally, disregarding the first thing he wanted to say to his nemesis... and the second thing.

“I’ll keep my hands to myself if that’s what you’re worried about.” It was impressive that he didn’t even sound at all mocking. Really, all Van wanted to do was sleep, and that was impossible knowing that Dilandau was mucking about, angering their guards for entertainment.

“You killed them!” There was no point in trying to pretend he didn’t wince at those words, it was obvious to everyone. “You tore them apart right in front of me and now you want me to curl up in your arms as if nothing happened?” Dilandau paused to draw in a deep shuddering breath, his pain evident with every word he spoke. “I see them die every time I close my eyes. I hear their screams echoing after every beat of my heart.” Ugh, what was it with the Schezar’s and melodrama? It had to be genetic. Why couldn’t Dilandau have taken after Folken in that regard and be all stoic, suffering silence? He’d really kill for some quiet right about now.

Oh he wanted to dismiss Dilandau’s ranting so badly, inviting him to exhaust himself before their hellish day even started, but he knew that the jerk would do just that, and be as loud and obnoxious as possible about it just to make sure that Van didn’t sleep either. What was worse was that if he tried to order the other teen to come back to bed, there was no doubt in his mind that Dilandau would once again, make a point of refusing him just to prove his independence. Ugh, it was like dealing with an obstinate bratty child!

“Look.” He sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair and doing his best to ignore the glowering guard and snarling dragon. “What is staying up going to accomplish?” It wasn’t easy keeping his voice level and calm, but somehow he managed. “By your own words, they’re going to torture us today right? So you should save up your energy in order to last as long as possible rather than exhausting yourself.”

“Because I can’t!” Dilandau all but screamed as he rounded on Van, his hands clenched tightly into fists and eyes blazing. Though every instinct screamed at Van to take up a more defensible position, he remained laying on the bed, doing his best to remain as calm as possible. Folken’s voice echoed through his mind like a mantra. _Treat him like a dragon, give him nothing to feed off of. Remain calm and at peace, he’ll have no choice but to follow suit._

“What can’t you do?” His question was an honest one and not meant to goad the other teen though you wouldn’t know it judging by how he began stalking back and forth across the cell, his movements mirrored by the angry dragon.

“I can’t just give up like you!” The albino snarled in frustrated rage. “I can’t just lay there and let them lead me into this! They’re going to take away my will soon enough, but I’m going to make them fight for it every step of the damn way!”

The guard clearly had had enough of the disruptive behaviour and gave the bars a warning strike with his staff, snarling out something rather threatening sounding. Naturally, Dilandau had to up the ante and not only yelled back a rather nasty sounding insult as he stalked towards the walls of their cell. Van was on his feet in a flash and grabbing onto the albino’s arm, hauling him back with rather impressive strength.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?!” Van snarled in the dragonslayers face, positioning himself between his companion and the guard, hoping that their captor wouldn’t attack his exposed back. “Just giving in?”

“Oh I’m sorry, is laying down and going to sleep some new cunning tactic? Because it looks a hell of a lot like sweet fuck all!!”

“And what will this accomplish?” Van yelled back, their faces close enough that their noses practically touched. “You yell at the guards, get stunned, maybe both of us get electrocuted. Nothing changes except our physical health! You’re supposed to be a brilliant tactician Dilandau, tell me where the advantage is?”

For a moment, Dilandau glared at him with pure unadulterated hatred and the king could feel the murderous energy radiating off of him in palpable waves. The dragon was screaming now, maddened by all of the wild emotions and it tore at the bars in an attempt to reach them, but both teenagers ignored it in favour of staring each other down.

Impressively, it was Dilandau who broke the glare first as his anger fled him as quickly as it had appeared. Those shining molten eyes dulled and the energy scintillating across his skin dissipated as his shoulders sagged in defeat. With an inarticulate snarl, the albino pulled himself away from Van and threw himself down onto the cot, his hands pressed tightly against his eyes as if to blot out the world.

Giving the guard a quick and wary look to ensure that he wasn’t about to shock them for annoying him, Van carefully made his way over to the cot and sat down on the edge, careful not to touch the slayer. He didn’t try to talk to Dilandau or push him, letting him open up in his own time, fully aware that answers would be forthcoming one way or another. It’s not like the albino ever kept quiet about what was truly bothering him.

The dark haired youth could only sit there and admire the patience and courage the Dragonslayers must have had, trying to draw their half mad captain out of his homicidal shell. There had been true love and trust between soldier and captain, that much was obvious from the loyalty they’d shown even in death. As much as he knew his own family and friends had loved him deeply, he couldn’t picture any of them returning from the paths of the dead to keep an eye on his well being.

“I’ve never fought them before.” Dilandau’s soft growl was barely above a whisper as he spoke the wolfkin tongue, ensuring their privacy despite the constant vigilance. “Even when I knew that they were going to hurt me, I went with them willingly. I did whatever they ordered, no matter how horrifying or repulsive. It never even occurred to me to fight or question them.” Slowly, his hands fell away from his face though he continued to stare blankly up at the ceiling, seeing a lifetime of personal horror rather than the bars and catwalk up above. “I was loyal. I worshipped them with every fibre of my being and their will was everything. There was something so simple and comforting about that mindset. Why does this hurt? Why do I bleed? Why is that child dying? Easy. Because They willed it.” He smiled faintly to himself, those pain filled eyes closing as he continued to speak.

“You stand there judging me for it, wondering what sort of idiot could allow themselves to think that, but look at all your gods. They supposedly bring drought, feast, calamity and prosperity all according to their whim, and though you rail at their actions. You sit back and wonder what you did to anger them, or congratulate yourself on pleasing them, but deep inside you all know that this has happened because they willed it. It’s as simple as that. These great beings decided your fate and you simply adapt accordingly.

“We have no gods in Zaibach. In their place, we had the Madoushi and the Emperor Himself. All actions within our borders were because of their collective will. They saw to the watering of the crops, the building of cities, the quieting of volcanoes and the taming of storms. You can’t even begin to imagine what they are capable of without seeing it with your own eyes. Sweet Fate, you see me, you’ve learned about how I came to be through their power, but you still aren’t in awe of them are you? I’m a life that never was, an impossible member of a nearly dead race and Fate’s ultimate wild card.

“How can you not bow down to power like that? How can you not be in utter awe of it’s glory?” The faint smile turned into a viscous sneer and it twisted his words just enough to make them into a snarl every bit as vicious as the soul behind it.

“I followed them willingly, even eagerly because I didn’t know any better. They were my gods and I loved them without question or hesitation. It didn’t matter that in the end, I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Mental conditioning or not, their will was law.

“Only now... now I learn that while I was doing everything I could to serve them and bring about their glory, they were destroying the very foundations upon which they’d built me on. Over and over, they tore me apart, they stripped me of anything that wasn’t them, stole away precious thoughts from my mind and emotions from my heart.

“Can you imagine living like that Van? Having your mind rewritten over and over again to suit the will of another? To have your friends and family not only murdered, but the grief stripped away from you? To have your very identity taken away whenever it wasn’t convenient for them?” The very edge of a tear glittered on snowy white lashes. It shone in the dim light of the room, reflecting the single nearby glowing wall scone.

“When they come for us in a few hours and take us before Shroden, I’ll become a thing again. All that I am right now will cease to be. My pain and suffering won’t mean a thing so long as he achieves whatever effect he desires. My fear will become negligible in the face of his ambition, and I’ll love him for it.

“Try to imagine being here, trapped in this cell with that hanging over your head. No Fanelia, no Escaflowne. No orange cat girl, no heroics and no care for those around you. Imagine kneeling at the feet of Emperor Dornkirk and gladly giving him all that is you and thanking him for letting you abase yourself at his feet.

“Now imagine someone telling you to simply lay down and rest.”

For a long moment, Van was struck speechless at the bitter eloquence of the dragonslayer’s words as well as the passion behind them. Could he simply sit back and wait for the inevitable? Or would he instead fight for every moment of freedom he could glean for himself and damn the consequences? Experience had already taught him his answer and all he could do was close his eyes and stare down at the floor, searching for the right words to make everything better between them. Anything he seemed capable of coming up with sounded trite to his ears and didn’t properly express the emotions the young captain had stirred up. After several long and contemplative breaths, he realized that really, words weren’t even needed, nor was he required or even expected to try to fix the unfixable.

In the end, he offered the one thing he could, knowing that it was likely the most precious treasure he could give his former enemy. Understanding and companionship.

Reaching out a tentative hand, he gently rested it on the back of the dragonslayer’s, feeling the delicate muscles stiffen for a moment as if the Dilandau expected an attack. Crimson eyes locked on his and once again, the two teens held gazes.

“I know I can’t stop what’s going to happen, so I won’t promise that. What I can promise you is that I’ll help you come back to yourself as quickly as possible. If you need to scream, throw things or anything like that, I’ll be there for you because you’re right. I can’t imagine what this must be like for you and honestly, I don’t even want to try because it’s too terrifying.” He sighed softly and this time it was he who broke the stare down, his gaze dropping to where his hand touched flesh.

“I’ll stay up with you if you want and we can talk... or just sit here if that’s what you need. No matter what, you’re not going to face this alone.” The hand shifted beneath his own and for a moment, the two clasped hands tightly, holding onto each other as if they were lifelines.

They held that position for several minutes, not talking or moving, simply taking what comfort they could in the presence of the other until finally, Dilandau shifted over, giving Van enough room to lay down next to him.

“There’s no point in you being uncomfortable.” He mumbled softly not meeting Van’s gaze as the king carefully lay down next to him, shifting somewhat to make himself as comfortable as possible without intruding too much into Dilandau’s personal space. “I still hate you.”

“I still hate you too.” Van replied, though neither of their statements bore any heat.

Again, they lay there for several more minutes, both of them stiff as boards and struggling to balance on their small length of cot before Dilandau finally huffed in annoyance and rolled over onto his side, placing his back to Van. For a moment, the king wondered what he’d done to annoy the albino this time, when a hand reached out, grabbed onto his own and pulled the arm around Dilandau’s body as he snuggled up against Van’s chest. To say that he was speechless would be an understatement as he realized that he was now effectively spooning the fierce warrior, their bodies fitting snugly together despite the several inches of height the dragonslayer had on him. Still, the warmth was wonderful, as was the feeling of security brought about by having someone pressed tightly against him. The feel of that slender chest rising and falling beneath his arm was strangely comforting and within moments, Van found his eyes beginning to drift shut once more.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” Dilandau’s voice was still soft and gruff, though there was a strange sort of longing to it as well which went far in convincing Van that the slayer rarely if ever slept alone. “I’m just tired of trying not to fall off the cot.”

 

Van was awoken hours later by the lights of the holding area all suddenly turning on at once, blinding them all rather painfully. The occupants in the other cells all made soft sounds of discomfort as they began to stir and through the thick doors separating them from the other prisoners, he could hear more than a few begin to scream. Yeah, that seemed appropriate for what he was expecting out of today. What he wasn’t expecting however was to wake up alone on the cot, his chest feeling cold in the absence of the second body.

Groaning softly as he rolled over, he heard the sound of running water moments before realizing that Dilandau was showering only a few feet away. Quickly turning his head away, he did his best to give what privacy he could but the dragonslayer had already noticed the motion and snickered softly.

“You can drop the shy virginal act anytime now Van.” Dilandau’s silken drawl sounded loud in the near silence of the room. “And seriously, I’ve used communal showers for most of my life so you don’t have to give yourself neck a cramp trying to look the other way because I honestly don’t care.” Did he have to sound so amused by the whole thing? Sure, Dilandau might be used to stripping down and cleaning himself with an untold number of observers, but Van certainly wasn’t used to it. Washing had always been a private ritual of his. A time to reflect, to relax and maybe, just maybe drop his guard a little.

Yesterday’s forced showers had been utterly intrusive and humiliating as far as he was concerned. The very idea of doing such a thing willingly was beyond comprehension.

“Didn’t you already have a shower last night?” Deciding that since he was awake, he might as well sit up, Van rearranged himself on the cot, still resolutely not looking in the direction of the dragonslayer. Instead, he focused on the little dragon who was still curled tightly in a defensive ball in the centre of the cage. The beast had obviously long ago realized that the bars themselves offered their own brand of danger.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Did the albino have to sound so shocked with his question? Showering was something you did when needed and doing so every day just wasn’t healthy at all. Granted, maybe he was trying to wash away the memory of that sorcerer’s touch or something. “You’ll be expected to shower regularly.” Dilandau continued, not bothering to really wait for Van to answer him, likely having already deduced the king’s bathing habits. “If you don’t do it yourself, I’m sure the guards have already been instructed to strip you down and force the issue. Don’t let it get to that. They won’t be gentle and I’m sure more than one of them will try to take advantage of the situation. Assholes like these get off on having power over others.”

Van really didn’t like how there seemed to be the weight of experience behind those words but he didn’t doubt for a moment that Dilandau was telling the truth. Still, the idea of stripping in front of not only Dilandau, but an unspecified number of guards to do something as intimate as washing was galling to say the least.

Behind him, he could hear the water stop and the soft sound of wet flesh on the metal floor as the other teen moved closer.

“Everything here is about power Van.” The silken voice advised. “We have none and that will be beaten into you over and over again until you either bend, or break. I’ve seen what happens to those who don’t bend and trust me, you don’t want that.”

“What happened to fighting them every step of the way? You were pretty adamant about that a few hours ago.” He still refused to look over, fully aware that Dilandau hadn’t gotten dressed yet, likely planning to air dry in order to avoid having to wear soaking wet clothes in the chill room. Likely a smart decision.

“Experience has taught me to pick my battles.” Van could practically feel the careless shrug and refrained from pointing out that it was far more likely that Dilandau had simply calmed down enough to realize the futility of his open rebellion. He knew that would only spark another argument and really, he had enough on his plate to deal with without adding a snippy dragonslayer into the mix.

“You should really wash up before they feed us. You won’t get a chance afterwards and if Shroden isn’t impressed with your hygienic state he’ll turn the issue into a rather unpleasant lesson for you. The man’s a sadist, don’t give him an excuse to play with you.”

“I was washed yesterday.” Van stated in a flat voice, still refusing to look over at his cell mate. “I’m still perfectly clean.” He even gave himself a little sniff, finding himself to be acceptable as far as personal odour was concerned. From his position nearby, Dilandau gave an inelegant snort.

“You’ll wash in the morning when you wake up, preferably after your exercises, then once they bring us back to our cells in the evening. Believe me, you’ll want to wash off then. Anything more might be seen as simply wasting water unless there’s a good reason for it.”

“Yeah... right... wait, exercises?” He couldn’t help but ask, finally glancing over at the pale slayer and doing his best to keep his eyes well above waist level. His gaze was met by a cocky grin and bright rebellious eyes which held nothing of the servile nature of his words within their depths.

“Of course.” Dilandau growled softly in the wolf kin tongue, the grin widening to show far too many teeth. “We need to be in top form when we break out of here and burn this place to ash.” For just a moment, Van saw the glittering glow of energist light in his eyes before those delicate features once again assumed an expression of bland neutrality. “Now wash up. Food will be coming soon.”

 

So began yet another humiliating experience as Van forced himself to strip down and step beneath the cool spray of water for the second time in as many days. It was every bit as uncomfortable as he’d envisioned it to be and despite their truce and shared captivity, he really didn’t like the idea of being so absolutely vulnerable only a few feet away from his former nemesis. Not that Dilandau was giving him a lick of attention. Instead, the dragonslayer seemed rather intent on yet another game of bait the dragon and he was dangling his hand between the bars for the beast to swipe at.

Rather than lounge about unclothed the way Dilandau seemed intent on doing. Van instead chose to sacrifice his shirt as a towel, quickly soaking up excess water from his body with it before slipping into the thin loose trousers which were part of his clothing. The shirt, he hung on the bars to dry, hoping that it wouldn’t take long.

His timing couldn’t have been better because it was only moments after he hung his clothes that several guards approached the cell. In between them was the stooped figure of an old slave. Their body was bowed almost in half by the weight of their years and long scraggly white hair dragged on the floor around them.

Thin, nearly emaciated arms reached out, showing the two captives the tray they carried. On it were two bowls and two glasses. Both were simple tin dishes though bore a small mark on the side in different colours, blue and red respectively and Van couldn’t help but think that there as some sort of reasoning behind this strange touch. As the guards stood at the ready, staves brandished in a threatening manner, an order was barked out at them.

“Turn around and face the bars at the far end of the cell.” Dilandau translated, breaking off his game and slipping off the cot to do exactly that. “If you don’t they’ll electrify the cage then deliver the food while we’re unconscious.”

Van took a moment to study the guards, noting the cool efficiency behind their actions as well as the confident way they held their weapons. These men were ready for them to act out and were likely looking forward to it. Nothing would be gained in fighting them, besides, he was starving. It had been nearly twenty four hours since he’d last eaten anything and even the warm slop in those bowls was looking delicious.

Once he joined Dilandau at the far end of the cell, he heard the doors open and the soft scrape of the tray being placed on the floor before the door swung shut and was once again securely locked. They both turned and approached the tray but the guards snapped out something else, gloved hands pointing at the tray.

Rather than reply to them, Dilandau picked up the blue marked one and handed it to Van before taking the red as his own.

“Eat. If you don’t finish all of it, you’ll be force fed.” He stated in that same forced neutral voice, then picked up then began spooning it into his mouth with his fingertips, doing a remarkable job at covering his distaste at using such barbaric methods.

“No cutlery?” It wasn’t so much that he was expecting preferential treatment, but this was pushing it a little far in regards to power games as far as he was concerned. Dilandau paused in his eating, taking a moment to lick some greyish goop off of his fingertips with his tongue. Though he likely hadn’t meant the action to be in any way seductive, Van couldn’t help but feel his cheeks heat up slightly at the sight of that flush pink tongue skillfully twisting around the digit, swiping it clean with rather impressive skill.

“We have to earn things like that most likely. They don’t trust us not to try to hut ourselves with any tools they give us.” Dilandau observed with little interest. “Hence why we have no sheets, towels or even soap. Desperate people can be incredibly creative when they believe there’s no other choice. Which is likely wise. I’m rather sure I could put both of us in the infirmary rather quickly with just a spoon and a lot of motivation.” The dragonslayer glanced over at Van, noting the horrified look in the other youth’s eyes and decided not to elaborate on how he’d learned this. Van likely wouldn’t handle well the idea that Dilandau used to find great entertainment in sneaking various items to prisoners aboard the Vione to see what they’d do with them. Honestly, he’d been quite impressed with the industriousness of some prisoners. Knowing that escape from the floating fortress was impossible, most chose to turn their “tools” on themselves, often with astonishing results. Naturally, Folken hadn’t appreciated Dilandau’s brand of scientific curiosity and had summarily banned him from the entire prison level.

“Great, that’s just want I want to hear.” Van struggled not to roll his eyes as he focused on shovelling food into his mouth, only to spit it back out a moment later. The strong taste of chemicals assaulted his senses and he sputtered in shock. Outside of the cell, the guards stiffened in anger, preparing to take more drastic measures if he continued to be stubborn.

“What is in this!? It tastes like chemicals!”

“Various proteins and vitamins.” Dilandau shrugged slightly as he continued to eat. “They’re standard field rations, similar to the ones we use in Zaibach, though they didn’t bother to hide the taste of the drugs with firethistle juice. Lazy bastards, it’s like they’re not even trying.”

Van’s arm tensed as he prepared to throw the drugged food away from him when a warm hand on his arm caused him to freeze.

“Don’t” Smouldering eyes met his and he could see the warning radiating from them. “Eat and don’t give them any problems. The drugs won’t hurt you, they’re likely various boosters and maybe some antibiotics for anything they might have found in your blood work. If you don’t eat, they’ll shove a tube down your throat and feed you that way. It’s not a pleasant experience.” Again, spoke the voice of experience and Van couldn’t help but shudder at the untold stories laying like quicksand inside the dragonslayer’s mind.

“Why mark the bowls then?” He asked, cautiously spooning out some of the goop with his fingers and forcing himself to open up his mouth. The guards watched him intently, ensuring that he was actually eating the vile fare. “Do you have different drugs in yours?”

“Yeah, most likely. Probably something to balance out my hormone levels, mood stabilizers and what not. That’s what they used to give me with my meals.” Dilandau didn’t seem to have any problem eating the food and Van quickly surmised that he was likely all too used to being drugged. “Honestly, food tastes strange without all the additives tossed into it. I think I’ve only eaten un-doctored food maybe three or four times in my life before waking up in Astoria. This is sort of comforting in a way, though honestly I’d kill for some cutlery.”

“They’ve been drugging you all your life?” Van couldn’t help but be appalled, which was surprising because he was rather sure that he should have reached his limit by now in regards to Dilandau and his past.

Unconcerned, the dragonslayer continued to eat, pausing only to sip at the water provided. Even that tasted strange according to Van’s mouth. Whatever was in it, it wasn’t fresh spring water like he was used to.

“This one time Shesta tried to snatch some of my leftovers when I’d been called away from a meal. He thought he was nabbing better quality food. The idiot nearly had a psychotic episode in his guymelef when his hormone levels went ballistic, then was sick for three days. I’ve never seen so much puke come out of a single person before. It was rather impressive, but it certainly drove home the rule of not touching my food.”

“That’s horrible!”

“No, horrible was what I did to the little shit once he recovered. The Madoushi weren’t happy to learn that I hadn’t finished my meal that day and they made that abundantly clear to me. Disobedience isn’t tolerated. If they can’t count on me, I become useless, and Zaibach doesn’t tolerate useless things.” There was an almost singsong like cadence to his last statement and Van was rather sure that this mantra had been drilled rather ruthlessly into the albino’s head since “birth”.

Unable to think of anything to say, Van reluctantly ate another mouthful of his food, doing his best to ignore the taste and not think about what the drugs within might be doing to him. They wanted him whole and healthy... at least physically. Who knew what this stuff would do to him mentally.

Before too long, he realized that he’d devoured every scrap of goop in his bowl and at the guards impatient gesture, he stepped forward and placed it by the edge of the bars then backed away obediently, following Dilandau’s lead. It helped that at least one of them could speak the language, though honestly, he hated having to rely on the dragonslayer as a translator.

Rather than the old slave scuttling forward to take the bowls away, more armed guards appeared and the one who’d spoken originally barked out a long string of orders for Dilandau to translate. Van watched as the albino grew even paler than before, though the expression on his face didn’t so much as twitch. After about an entire minute of angry sounding gibberish, the albino nodded his head and turned away, motioning for Van to do the same.

“If you need to use the toilet I’d advise doing so now.” His voice was toneless and far too controlled to bode well. “They’re going to bind our hands behind our backs and lead us to the lab. If either of us give them any problems, both will be stunned.” Van couldn’t help but glance at the surrounding guards, analyzing their chances against the much larger number. It wouldn’t be easy, but even unarmed, he was pretty sure that if they worked together, they could succeed. At least that was the idea, but like all hope filled ideas, this one was quickly dashed when the guards parted ranks and a tall figure wearing a long black cloak stepped forward. It wasn’t Shroden, but that was small comfort judging by the cold grey eyes which watched them from beneath thick brows. This man had long straight grey hair and a severe beard which did nothing to soften the harsh lines of his face. Like the other sorcerer, this one had a strange visceral air of authority about him as well as an unwholesome aura and Van had no doubt that this individual was every bit as monstrous as his leader.

“Subject 35, you will cooperate with the guards and proceed to the labs without incident.” He spoke Zaibachi and his dialect was almost identical to Dilandau’s, making it difficult to catch everything he said. Van’s grasp of the language wasn’t the best, but he’d made a point of gaining a working knowledge of it during he war. The harsh language sounded even colder by the open cruel indifference in the man’s voice and Van felt the first stab of despair as he saw Dilandau stiffened as if struck.

Even without turning around, the dragonslayer knew exactly who’d addressed him and he could feel his will to fight leaving him instantly. Desperately, he grabbed onto all of those little bits of self which struggled to escape the will of one of his masters, but they seemed to fray instantly beneath the onslaught. He could almost hear Celena deep inside his mind screaming at him to fight them, begging him to be strong for the both of them, but her voice was too faint, her will still too weak to influence the power struggle taking place in his soul. In the end, all she could do was offer a sanctuary for those last vestiges of self, ensuring that once this newest nightmare was over, there would be something left to rebuild.

Shuddering, slender fingers clenching into tight fists, Dilandau tried to call up images of Gaddes’ face, how his beautiful storm grey eyes danced when he laughed, how they darkened when he was angry or in the throes of passion. He tried to focus on the feel of the man’s hands on his skin, how it felt to have him buried so perfectly inside his body, and how safe he’d felt in his arms... But Gaddes was so far away, and he’d wanted to cast Dilandau away. He’d rejected his hold over the dragonslayer, not realizing that in attempting to protect the teenager, he was in fact leaving him nearly powerless against his enemies.

Breath hitching in his throat, Dilandau moaned softly, feeling the terror well up inside him, threatening to swallow him whole with the promise of what was to come. The agony, the fear, the helplessness and the desire. It made his stomach churn and his knees tremble, but even as he struggled to control himself, he found himself wondering why he was so worried. This was as it should be. Follow his orders and his Master would be pleased. All of this was for his Master’s glorious purpose and he should be honoured to have a part in it. Why should he fight against that?

“Acknowledge 35.”

“Fight him.” Van whispered softly and then fell to his knees with a cry of pain as agony exploded along his back where one of the energist staves struck him. His muscles seized up almost instantly, dropping him to the floor where he lay gasping for several long moments, simply struggling to remind his lungs how to work.

Looking up, he saw how tightly Dilandau clenched his jaw, the way his eyes shone with desperation as he struggled fiercely to hold onto who he was, but even as Van watched, he saw the brilliant light behind those crimson orbs die. Those beautiful features smoothed into a cool calm mask and as if a switch had been flipped, the albino relaxed with a soft sigh. Drawing his shoulders back, Dilandau turned and faced the sorcerer and bowed his head obediently.

“Acknowledged.” The dragonslayer ground out, his voice heavy with strain as a flicker of latent defiance flashed in his eyes, giving Van hope. Unfortunately, the sorcerer saw it as well and one of his bushy eyebrows arched up.

“I see your time away from our care has given you some misguided illusions regarding your place in this world.” The man’s smile was cold and cruel as a swords edge. “How amusing that you fancy yourself as having any shred of willpower. Approach the bars Subject 35.” He motioned for Dilandau to stand in front of him and the dragonslayer obeyed without hesitation despite the sullen glare he shot the cloaked sorcerer.

Reaching through the bars of the cage, the sorcerer stroked a gloved fingertip down the length of Dilandau’s scarred cheek and Van could only watch with sickened horror as the proud warlord accepted the caress despite his violent history in regard to anyone touching the old wound.

As if sensing his thoughts, the sorcerer looked over Dilandau’s shoulder, locking his eyes on Van. That empty smile widened slightly as his fingers slid up the slayers cheek to tangle in his still damp hair. With a sharp jerk of his wrist, the sorcerer bent Dilandau’s head back sharply, exposing the pale column of his throat. As before, the action was met without protest and Van felt his stomach churn.

“You believe that your bond will protect either of you?” The sorcerer sneered viciously. “From what we’ve observed, it’s still weak and barely formed. Subject 35 might obey you should he have no conflicting orders, but you’ll never completely control him. Observe.” With a smooth motion, the sorcerer drew a short yet rather sharp blade from the depths of his cloak and held it out to the dragonslayer.

“Take this knife Subject 35 and cut yourself with it.” It was obvious that the albino was doing his best to fight the order. His jaw was clenched tightly enough to crack teeth and those crimson eyes burned with futile rage but his hand never even hesitated to take the blade and turn it around, pressing it firmly against his throat, right above the pulse of his carotid artery.

“Nothing fatal.” The sorcerer continued easily, allowing himself a smug smile as he prevented the youth from taking the easy escape. The blade froze instantly, the skin beneath its edge puckering yet not quite breaking and Van could see the pale hand trembling, trying desperately to add to the pressure despite his orders to the contrary.

“You want to die so badly don’t you?” The sorcerer leaned closer, pressing lightly against the bars in order to whisper in Dilandau’s ear even as his fingers continued to stroke through the silken hair. The pose was intimate and told of long familiarity between the two. The disgust in those crimson eyes at the man’s proximity spoke volumes as to their relationship. “You forget your place Subject 35.” He crooned softly, clearly enjoying tormenting the teen, though whether it was for Van’s benefit of Dilandau’s, the young king didn’t even want to guess. “You don’t get to die until Lord Shroden orders it, and we all still have so many... uses for you.” That gloved finger began to idly stroke the scarred cheek once again, the touch utterly unwholesome and possessive.

“But, a point must be made...” Stepping back, the Madoushi favoured them both with a vicious smile, wrapping his long cloak tightly about his body. “Cut your eye out Subject 35. I don’t care which one.”

From where he couched on the floor, Van had a perfect view of the utter look of horror on Dilandau’s face as he heard the words, his body already moving to obey before his brain could get over it’s shock. Having already seen the lack of hesitation when obeying commands, Van wasted no time and lunged upwards, grabbing the knife wielding hand with his own and struggling to pull the blade away. The razor sharp tip danced less than an inch away from the crimson iris which stared into Van’s eyes, silently pleading him for help.

He didn’t want this, that much was obvious. That pale slender body was nothing more than a puppet in the hands of the sorcerers will and Van had no doubt that should he loosen his grip for even a moment, Dilandau would be forced to blind himself for the amusement of their captors.

“Please... please stop me.” The dragonslayer’s lips moved just enough to read the words he silently spoke and Van felt his heart go out to the tortured youth. This was sadism in it’s purest form and there was nothing either of them could do to prevent the outcome. Both knew that Dilandau had the greater stamina. Sooner rather than later, Van would grow tired and the knife would move that final inch. Even now, the king could feel his arms screaming at him in protest but he refused to give in.

His grip on that slender wrist was hard enough to make the fine bones beneath creak ominously and Dilandau had to be in agony, but made no complaint. The pain he felt couldn’t hold a candle to the terror filling his soul at the thought of being blinded. The tip of the blade danced cruelly, filling his vision but he didn’t allow himself to look at it. Instead, he focused on those burning brown orbs and the wild determination blazing forth from them. Begging with every ounce of pride he had for Van to help him. He didn’t care if his arm broke, if his wrist was ground to dust in that grip, so long as he could still see. Without his eyes, he couldn’t pilot his guymelef, couldn’t judge distance properly to fly or fight with his sword... he’d be ruined. One more scar on his body, only this on would be made by his own hand.

“Stop this please!” Van begged, giving voice to the words Dilandau couldn’t. “You’ve made your point! Make him stop this!”

“Have I now?” The sorcerer drawled idly, hardly moved by their plight. “And which point might that be?” Van desperately wanted to glare at the man, to let him see the true depths of loathing the king held for this vile filth in human form. He’d see this sorcerer dead... all of the sorcerers dead if it was the last thing he ever did! No one deserved to be toyed with like this! It was beyond cruel!

“We’re nothing!” He ground out, sweat trickling down the sides of his face as he felt his grip beginning to weaken, allowing the blade to edge just a little closer to that jewel bright eye. Dilandau didn’t dare breathe and no matter how desperately he wanted to pull away, his body was locked against escape. “You have all the power and we’ll obey you. We’ll go quietly to the labs if that’s what you want! We won’t try to escape!” There was no lessening in the pressure against his hands and he knew that he was nearly out of time. Dilandau’s sweat slick arm was growing harder and harder to grip. Unable to help himself, Van dug his nails into the porcelain pale skin hard enough to draw blood, but still he refused to release the other youth. Sweet gods of Gaea, he could feel Dilandau shaking in his grip and the terror flowed off of him in waves. Feeling Van’s increasingly tenuous grip, defeat began to fill those beautiful eyes even as they continued to silently plead for a miracle.

“Please.” He continued to beg for the both of them. Don’t do this. Please I’m begging you.”

“There is no mercy here Vessel 02. You would do well to remember that. Should either of you offer any defiance, be it a word, a look, even a thought, we will know, and you will be punished accordingly. Uncooperative subjects are useless to us, and we do not tolerate useless things.” That cruel smile never once left the man’s face as he watched the two teenagers struggle against each other futilely, savouring their despair like a fine wine. “Release the knife Subject 35.”

The blade fell from nerveless fingers moments before Van finally lost his grip, causing Dilandau to strike himself in his face hard enough to send him reeling back against the bars. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his breaths came in harsh sharp gasps, every instinct screaming out in a mix of relief and utter panic. He wanted to curl up in a defensive ball, he wanted to scream and hurl himself at the cloaked bastard, he wanted to beat his own skull in against the bars... but all he could do was stand there, awaiting his next command.

Van, being unbound from such restrictions sank to the floor at Dilandau’s feet, staring at the knife which lay there within easy reach should he simply extend his hand and grab it. It would give them a weapon to use. He could kill that monstrous bastard! Bars or no bars! He’d get out of this cage and slit that scrawny throat if it was the last thing he ever did!

“Now, pick up the knife and give it to me.” The sorcerer held out his hand, the limb easily within reach should Van choose to attack.

Wordlessly, the king wrapped his fingers around the weapon’s handle. It was still warm from Dilandau’s grip, the handle made of fine bone, lovingly carved, but to Van, it felt disgusting. He could feel the pain imbued within it’s core and knew without a shadow of a doubt that it had been used for nothing but pain and humiliation. Just touching it made him want to retch, but he held it firmly, his eyes slowly rising to that beckoning hand, waiting patiently for him to hand over their only weapon.

The temptation to drive the blade into that bony hand was nearly overwhelming, but he knew that even if he maimed the man, it would be Dilandau who would be punished. There would be no final stay of action. The dragonslayer would be ordered to carve out his eyes, disfigure himself or a slew of other atrocities in retaliation. No, there would be other ways, other times... there had to be.

Disgusted with himself, he carefully turned the knife around in his hands and handed it hilt first to the sorcerer, praying that he was right, and there would be other chances. Gods of Gaea help them if that had been their only one. He should have taken that opportunity to kill Dilandau, then himself. Damn the war, Damn Gaea. Anything was better than being subjected to this.

“Excellent.” The sorcerer crooned, sounding so smug that Van wanted to lunge out and beat the man’s face to pulp. “It’s always important to know exactly where you stand in the grand scheme of things.” The knife was tucked into the folds of that long cloak, hidden away from sight. “Do not forget this lesson. I shall not be so forgiving in the future. You should thank me for my kindness.”

“Thank you Master.” Dilandau murmured without hesitation, bowing his head deeply in respect and reverence. There were no more defiant flickers in the depths of his eyes. He was well and truly cowed.

Van bit his lip hard enough that he tasted blood as he fought to control his initial impulses. He’d never bowed to any man, never accepted defeat no matter how badly the odds were stacked against him. But this wasn’t about him anymore. This was about those around him, those who would suffer for his pride and he risked a glance up at Dilandau, seeing those blank eyes staring straight ahead, despair clinging to him like a heavy cloud. There was only one way they were going to get out of this alive... though what would be left of them afterwards was anyone’s guess.

“Thank you.” He murmured, cursing his traitorous tongue and hating himself with every beat of his heart. “Master.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo good times! Gaddes made some friends, Van made some... er... friends.... everyone should be happy right? Right?!? *crickets* Ahem.... yeah, life sucks for them all right now.
> 
> Next Chapter: Plotting, more plotting and Van finally gets to see what the big deal is about! YAY!


	5. Weird Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van finally gets a taste of Madoshi "science" and quickly learns that he'd rather go without.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, I don't own Vision of Escalfowne or any of the characters. Not making money either.   
> So yeah, we're still being dark here, but I promise that fun and high adventure is coming! It really is!   
> Currently I'm enjoying a delightful cold a co-worker gave me and have been off work for 2 days coughing a lung out and hoping it doesn't turn into another lung infection, so far so good. On the up side, it's meant that I could focus on writing and I banged this chapter out over Thanksgiving weekend! I've been doing drawings for Inktober, that's why there was a break in the posting. Sorry about that. ^_^  
> On with the fun!

“I trust neither of them gave you cause for discipline?” Shroden’s cold oily voice sent a shiver of pure loathing up Van’s spine and he struggled to keep his upper lip form pulling back in an animalistic sneer. For once in his life, he decided to adopt Dilandau’s idea of simply keeping an expressionless mask firmly in place, his hands pressed tightly against his thighs in order to keep them from curling into fists. Still, it was a struggle and the vile man could see that well enough judging by the hint of a smirk which graced his thin pallid lips.

“He broke rather easily for a demon.” The knife wielding sorcerer sneered openly, reaching out and running rough fingers through Vans still damp hair. “After all of our research, I’d expected him to have a little more fight to him.” The urge to vomit was nearly overwhelming at the feel of those vile fingers scraping against his scalp, but he refused to pull away. It had been made abundantly clear what would happen if he fought back. A little touching wasn’t going to kill him. “I wonder if his freak of a brother would have held out longer?” The man mused idly for a moment before stepping away, giving Shroden room to approach.

“Doubtful, Vessel 01 proved to be deeply flawed in that regard.” Cold hands grabbed his chin and jerked his head from one side to the other with brusque efficiency, likely checking for possible damage that might have been incurred in the few hours since he’d last been examined. “Sentimentality had always been his greatest failing. I’m rather curious to see if this weakness is genetic, or merely something learned.”

“He settled down quickly enough when Subject 35 was threatened.”

“Interesting. Perhaps once this project concludes, we will take some time to perform some tests. That is, if both subjects survive.” Cold grey eyes stared into his and he’d never looked into eyes so utterly flat and pitiless before. Even Dornkirk’s strange eyes and held some passion in their fanatical madness. He’d gleefully played god with the lives of every living being on Gaea without bothering to understand the intricacies of human nature or the repercussions of wielding the phenomenal power he’d held. The man had honestly believed that he was ushering in a new utopia for the world, whether they wanted it or not. This sorcerer on the other hand seemed to care for nothing beyond his experiments and his subjects were nothing more than ingredients. They would be used until there was nothing left of use.

“Strap him down to the table. We’ll run a final comparison with his blood against the previous sample before proceeding. I will not tolerate any anomalies altering the outcome of this experiment.”

Rough hands grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms behind his back and all but dragged him towards one of the cold metal tables at the very center of the room. Though he’d inwardly promised to obey without question, if only to spare Dilandau further agony, he found himself balking at the sight of the restraints, and the small legion of rather vicious looking needles arrayed around the table’s perimeter.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, the grey haired sorcerer quickly grabbed his arm and drove a needle none too gently into the vein, drawing blood with brusque efficiency. Utterly ignoring Van’s gasp of surprise and pain, he drew what was needed before removing the tool and pressing a small square of cloth against the wound.

“Hold it firmly in place if you don’t wish to bleed to death before we begin.” He stated coldly before turning back to his machines, placing the vial of blood inside one of the many slots. Though Van did his best to try to watch what was happening, Shroden’s cold voice quickly pulled his attention away.

“You should feel honoured to be part of this experiment.” Shroden stated in an almost matter of fact tone of voice as he glanced over at Van. “One could almost call this penance after all. Fate ensuring that you atone for your crimes against innovation.” The man smiled that cold cruel smile as he leaned over to Dilandau and began stroking the pale youths cheek possessively, his grey eyes glittering in a rather unsettling fashion. “Pity that your ignorance caused so much damage to our plans. You set us back years in research alone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop us.” The hand slid down Dilandau’s cheek to brush down the smooth column of his throat until long spidery fingers traced along the delicate lines of his collarbone. Through it all, the dragonslayer never blinked, never twitched. It didn’t look like he was breathing at all. Van had never seen the other youth so utterly contained, it was almost as creepy as the way the sorcerer was pawing at him.

“Had you fulfilled Folken’s final wish, you would have ended our project and left us with nothing but empty theories, but something stayed your hand didn’t it?” The predatory smile turned gloating as the fingertips slid beneath the collar of Dilandau’s shift and the pale youth moaned softly, his pale lashes fluttering closed. “Not even a dying wish cast while within the Zone of Absolute Fortune could stop one of my Eidolons. Subject 35 proved to be a perfect success, exactly what we were looking for.” The man chuckled darkly and glanced over at Van, studying his reactions to the revelations.

“Did you think that all we were after with this one was a superior soldier? That we would create such elaborate alterations in order to create something that a few drugs and a little Fortune blood would accomplish in mere hours? No, you can’t possibly comprehend the sheer genius of our plans can you?”

Van desperately wanted the man to shut up, to stop pawing Dilandau, and more importantly, for Dilandau to stop looking as if he was enjoying it. He knew the dragonslayer had no choice in the matter, but it didn’t make it any less disturbing. Worse, he knew that he had to keep the man talking. Not only would it delay the inevitable, but any information was priceless, and they had so precious little of it.

“Folken understood in the end, that’s why he tried so hard to arrange for the death of Subject 35, but he didn’t understand the power he was dealing with. No one did but us.” The soft prideful chuckle was chilling, made more so with how Dilandau was now leaning into the man, seeming to hang on his every word, waiting... desperate for an order. His eagerness to please was evident in his every body movement. “Our society runs on Energist, a renewable resource in a sense, but one which cannot possibly support the needs of our empire. We’re rather quickly hunting dragons to extinction with our current rate of consumption and that need will only grow as our Empire expands. You see, Gaea as we know it is at the edge of technological collapse and no one realizes it but us.”

Van was struck momentarily speechless by the statement and the cold hard truth behind it. Yes, he’d been aware of the declining dragon population, but his thoughts hadn’t been far reaching enough to realize the future implications behind such a fact. No dragons meant no dragenergist.

While regular energist dug up from the ground deposits could still power rudimentary technology, it was the energist provided by dragons, both living and dead which powered leviships and guymelefs. There simply wasn’t a way to gather large enough amounts of lesser energist together to power larger machines and keep them stable.

Had Folken seen this? Had he been trying to warn them about their unrelenting consumption? Or had he also been ignorant to the looming spectre of collapse just like the rest of them?

“Zaibach uses more energist than any other country combined” He stated boldly, remembering the far reaching energist mines and their ravenous machines endlessly digging away at the earth. “Your society will collapse long before any others. In fact, Fanelia will barely suffer at all, we only use Dragenergist for Escaflowne.” Granted, that only worked for his generation, his heir would have to seek out his own energist to power the great armour. It was something he fervently prayed was never required.

“Ignorant to the last.” Shroden sighed in disappointment. “We’ve learned to harness the power of lightning itself, not to mention hydro and geothermal energy to meet our growing needs, but yes, none of those sources provide enough raw power to support the systems of a guymelef, even one of our most basic models. An Alseides would never get off the ground let alone support a crima system. But that hardly is my concern. We seek the grander picture, thinking ahead by generations.” He smiled now, the expression shocking in comparison to his usual emotionless clinical attitude. It was obvious that this was something he was passionate about... dangerously so.

“We have tasted power, by the grace of our Emperor and we are loathe to go without. But powering the Fate Alteration Engine required the combined efforts of centuries of work and the cooperation of the entire Empire to create enough power to enact the Zone of Absolute Fortune. This is something your “allies” have ensured will never happen again... or so they think.” His smile became a sneer and he pulled Dilandau close, running a proprietary hand along his body, causing the youth to practically melt against him. Not only did the pale teen offer no resistance, he seemed to encourage the touch, sighing softly, his snowy white lashes fluttering closed.

From his angle, only Van could see the flash of utter loathing and rage in their flickering depths and he knew that deep inside, buried beneath subservience, the fierce captain tore at the chains binding his soul.

It was hard to tell if this made the whole thing better or worse. While it was a relief to know that the Dragonslayer still existed in some sense despite all evidence to the contrary, Van didn’t want to think about how sickened he must be at being trapped within his own body, unable to control his reactions.

“You think that we won’t notice you and your cronies setting up a network of that level again? We’re not idiots, and how does that tie in with this? What you’re doing here is disgusting! You’re torturing these people! You’re toying with nature as if you think you’re some sort of god!”

“Not some sort my dear boy. I AM a god.” It was chilling how calmly he stated this fact not to mention the utter conviction behind his voice. “I have created life from nothing. I have brought into this world a creature like no other for my own purposes. I have sculpted him according to my desires and only I command him utterly. With him, my beautiful Eidolon, I shall rebuild a new Empire from the ashes of the old. I shall show Gaea and all of it’s inhabitants what true power is. There will be no perfect utopia, no world of happy mindless drones. There will only be that which I desire, and this is but the first step.”

The man was insane. Van had already known that on some level. No one bearing any human sanity could commit the vast crimes this man had indulged in, but even that had had limits, or so he’d thought.

“And where do Dilandau and I fit into this?” He wasn’t sure he truly wanted to know, his torture seemed inevitable at this point, but there was no reason for his continued ignorance. “And how does this fit into the extinction of the dragons?”

His questions were greeted with a low chuckle of superiority, proving that while the sorcerer might be every bit as brilliant as Folken, he lacked the man’s ability and desire to play his cards close to his chest. On the very cusp of his perceived victory, Shroden wanted to gloat to his enemies, to revel in his own greatness, and Van had every intention of letting him do just that, so long as it bought them a little more time.

“It has everything to do with you. You blind freakish unique child.” Oh he was going to enjoy running this man through the instant he got the chance. Granted, he’d likely have to fight Dilandau for that honour. “We’ve long theorized about alternate sources of energist. We know of green, blue, and purple energist which can be found in deposits throughout Gaea, but it is the drag-energist found only in the gullets of dragons which fascinates us. Broken down, refined over the period of years and purified by the very life of the dragon, it has no equal... until now.” One again, that smile turned predatory as Shroden looked down at Dilandau, on of his hands rising up to trace the delicate lines of the dragonslayer’s face. The gesture was almost tender, but no one in the room was fooled for a moment. It was hardly a surprise when Shroden slipped his fingers past the albino’s lips and then forced his mouth open, pulling his lower jaw down into what had to be a painful angle and looking deep down the complaint youth’s throat.

“It’s in there, hidden away beneath flesh and muscle, infused in bone and blood. Growing, building up with every beat of his heart, absorbing lives taken, experiences survived... every breath inhaled. We’ve created a living energist in Subject 35. Unlike the inferior land dragons, he isn’t required to devour deposits of the raw ore. He absorbs the energist in the air, in the water, all around us into his blood. Once there, his unique physiology allows it to multiply at an impressive rate, allowing us to harvest it much like any other resource.” Still holding the dragonslayers jaw open, Shroden’s other hand pressed lightly against Dilandau’s sternum, where the dragenergist would be located if he were a dragon.

“I imagine that one day, he might actually create a jewel, a new type of energist for us to harvest. It will make a rather fascinating dissection don’t you think?” This time he could actually see the minute shiver of Dilandau’s body at the cruel words, though he didn’t dare pull away or offer any resistance. “Of course, the energist inside him is unstable and highly volatile, causing us to keep up a rather strict drug regimen as well as ensuring that we “harvest” the excess energy regularly to prevent an overflow. The process is rather agonizing, though much like the famed dragon hunts of Fanelia, the adrenaline surge seems to add power to the energist in question, creating a superior batch. With him alone, we could power an entire city... or a Fate Alteration Engine.” A sidelong smile was flashed in Van’s direction, noting the king’s obvious disgust.

“It’s for his own good in the end.” The man’s altruism would likely be more believable if he hadn’t resumed idly pawing at his captive, racing the lines of his body as if memorizing every angle and curve. “The longer he goes without “harvesting” the more volatile he becomes. Worse, the power builds up inside him until it’s finally released... we can of course only speculate as to what would happen as a result... but I’m sure you remember Basram’s energist bomb... I believe the effect would be rather similar. Honstly, you should thank us for our proactive efforts in saving the world.”

“Is that what this is then?” Van waved his hand around the machine strewn room, disgust and rage radiating from his every pore. “This is just one big Fate Alteration Engine?”

“Essentially, yes.” Shroden nodded his head, those flat grey eyes of his narrowing slightly. “And your next question will undoubtedly be to know what your part is in all of this? That’s quite simple my dear boy. You no doubt see the hazards in having but a single power source to rely heavily on. If something were to happen to Subject 35.... well, that would bring our research to a halt and no doubt plunge all of Gaea into technological archaism. We intend to create more like him... and for that, we require draconian blood.... a great deal of it.”

Even though he’d been expecting this, it didn’t make hearing it any easier. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room and Van felt faint with nausea. It certainly didn’t help that Dilandau was staring at him with empty eyes, their usual fire banked down so deeply that they might as well have gone out.

Making more like him... more abused children, more insane murderers... he was going to be the father of a whole race of monsters, and there was nothing he could do.

“I see you’re finally understanding your situation. That’s good. Your cooperation will make this far less bothersome in the long run. You can either work with us and embrace this new era of prosperity, or we can simply force the issue. Personally, I care little which path you choose so long as you obey the instructions given. Now then, lay down for Lord Salzar, follow his instructions without issue and we’ll continue to allow you so share a cell with Subject 35. Fail to comply and well... I assure you, he’ll have no shortage of beds to sleep in.”

The guards were ready for Van’s lunge forward, three of them moving quickly to catch his shoulders and arms, pulling him back towards the table and it’s cruel restraints. Though he swore and struggled against the larger men, he simply wasn’t a match for their strength and was soon held still, unable to do more than glare at his captors with impotent fury.

“You know what happens if you don’t cooperate.” The grey haired sorcerer ... Salzar, hissed softly in his ear, sounding as if he wanted nothing more than a chance to “discipline” his captives. “Don’t think for a moment that Lord Shroden will hesitate to hurt your little pet. Cause me any problems and you’ll be begging for us to just kill him to end his suffering.” There was too much anticipation in that voice for Van’s comfort and the churning in his stomach grew stronger at all of the horrific images that called up. The worst was that none of his imaginings likely held a candle to what the reality would be should he challenge them.

Radiating smug victory, Salzar motioned for the guards to release him, no doubt eager to prove his power over the king once more. Grey eyes locked with brown as the two battled silently against the will of the other, but both knew that the battle had already been won.

“Now get on the table.”

With that threat hanging over his head, there wasn’t much he could do other than obey, however reluctantly. Casting a quick glance over in Dilandau’s direction, he saw the dragonslayer being led towards the other table across from his. Though he didn’t hesitate to obey Shroden’s commands, Van could see the very real fear in his eyes as well as how his already snowy white skin had suddenly gained a greyish pallor. Still, he obediently lay down as directed and held himself still as the restraints were tightened around his limbs.

Never in his life had Van wished more desperately for Dilandau’s raging madness to take hold. He knew without a doubt that between the two of them, they could overpower the guards and sorcerers. They could arm themselves with those energist shock poles and fight for their freedom, at the very least, at least they’d go down fighting rather than led like sheep to the slaughter.

It was at best, an empty hope. There was no way Dilandau was going to raise a hand against his sorcerous masters and he’d already seen proof that it would require little more than a murmured command from them to force the albino’s surrender. Besides, it’s not like death awaited them should they fail. No, there were far worse fates waiting for them should they step out of line for even a moment. They needed both of them alive, but that left a rather large grey area as to just how alive and functional they were required to be. He was going to have to swallow his pride even more and endure. If the gods were with them, then right now Allen was organizing a rescue party and would soon be storming Basram. He had to believe that. No matter how far fetched, it was all he had left.

Doing his best not to tremble visibly and give his tormentor any more enjoyment than necessary, Van sat down on the table and hissed softly as the cold metal bit through the thin material of his clothes. They were still damp and the chill quickly ate through him, making goose pimples stand out on his skin almost instantly. No wonder Dilandau had opted to keep his clothes as dry as possible. The bastard could have warned him! How typically Dilandau. Actually, the thought made him smile slightly as it made him remember that they hadn’t broken the dragonslayer yet. He was still just as much of an ass as he’d been back in Astoria. It was simply hidden better.

The urge to sit back up and move away from the bone chilling cold was strong, but as if anticipating the move, rough hands pushed him down onto his back and cold leather straps were tightened around his wrists and ankles, stopping just short of cutting off his circulation. Unable to help himself, he began to struggle, loathing being in such a vulnerable position.

Above him, Salzar smiled cruelly down at him before reaching over and wrapping a strap around his chest, pinning him down firmly to the icy block beneath.

“I would advise not struggling overly hard. If you tear yourself on a needle, it will result in wasted blood, and we will be taking a great deal from you today. You’ll need every drop we leave you with.” As the man spoke, he began attaching electrodes to Van’s forehead, chest and wrists, each one pricking him slightly as tiny needles slid into his skin. Almost immediately, one of the machines next to him lit up and began to beep in a rhythmic fashion. Strange symbols scrolled across the screen, their shapes were clearly zaibachi but Van couldn’t read a single word of the gibberish.

He watched as the sorcerer began fiddling with dials and switches before leaning over and shining a bright light in Van’s eyes, then placing a strange band of metal across his forehead. Several long wires sprouted out of it, making it look like some nightmarish festival crown. It was heavy, uncomfortable and as with the small electrode pads, there was the sensation of tiny pinpricks against his skin.

“Elevated RA waves.” The sorcerer stated in a clear voice, jotting something down on a roll of paper. “One fifty five over seven.” He sounded impressed with this gibberish and Van was rather sure he didn’t want to know the reason why. “Intra cell activity is within the norm, EKG readings are nominal, enhanced activity in the temporal and parietal regions.” There was a pause in speech as the man began typing into one of the infernal machines. “These readings are much more developed than Vessel 01. Could this be an evolution of the species?”

Unable to move his head with the damn device weighing him down, Van could only watch the sorcerer out of the corner of his eye as Shroden stepped into view to study the readouts with interest sparking in the depths of his eyes for the first time since meeting Van.

“I do not believe so, but this will require further study. It shouldn’t have any adverse effect on the experiment. Proceed as planned but continue to monitor for RA waves. If they break one sixty over eight I want to be notified.” Shroden stepped out of his line of sight once again, likely to tend to Dilandau and honestly, Van was somewhat happy that he couldn’t see what was happening on the other table.

“Blood analysis complete. Platelet levels are within the norm, no sign of anomalies. Adrenal count is high but still within acceptable limits.”

“Excellent, continue as planned.” It was as if they’d both forgotten that he existed as a sentient being and had simply become another tool for them to poke and prod. Honestly, he shouldn’t have expected any different considering what he’d seen so far, but it still chilled him to the bone in ways far worse than the table ever could. They’d detached themselves from him on any emotional level, meaning that it didn’t matter what they did to him because he didn’t exist as a sentient being to them anymore. The more he learned about these cruel men, the more convinced he became that that they weren’t going to survive this nightmare.

Off to the side, a door opened and there was the sound of several approaching footsteps. Some were booted but most were not. Those footfalls sounded like his own, meaning feet wrapped in the soft paper thin slippers supplied by their captors. They shuffled along with clear reluctance in every step and were met with the sharp zap of one of the charged staves and a pained yelp.

Straining his neck to look, Van saw a group of teenagers, no older than himself. They marched side by side with each other in pairs, so close to each other that their shoulders brushed with every step, forcing them to move in time with their partners or stumble.

Other than their age, they physically had little in common with each other, seeming to hail from all over Gaea, though the majority of them did appear to be Basrami. Their dark eyes and hair paired with warm olive skin were unmistakable. The oldest appeared to be around eighteen while the youngest was no more than twelve. All of them were underfed to varying degrees, several were little more than skin and bones while others sported marks of prolonged abuse.

Each one wore a thin metal bracelet around their right wrist, they attached to a similar one on their partners wrists, binding the two together. No wonder they walked so closely with each other. Was there a similar threat hanging over their heads? Should one misbehave, the other would be punished? No, looking into those empty eyes, he doubted that any of them had anything left inside capable of caring for another human being. A second glance showed that each bracelet was decorated with a number and colour. Just looking at them sent shivers through his spine as he remembered his coloured bowl bearing drug filled food from earlier. These were more test subjects... but why bind them together? He wanted to ask, but deeply dreaded the answer.

Though it was hard to see, many of them bore brands on their forearms; marks of ownership. One young girl had several decorating the length of her arm. Her eyes were the emptiest of the group, any concept of fear had long ago been burned out of her and she calmly shuffled along to her fate. On the other end of the spectrum, a young boy with a familiar swarthy fanelian complexion struggled in vain against the guards and cried out loudly at the sight of Van, likely recognizing him as his king.

“Your Highness!” He yelled out, only to be cuffed soundly across the face and knocked to the floor, pulling a young egzardian girl down with him. His cry and the familiar language caused something to break inside the young king and he felt tears well up in his eyes as he struggled to sit up. The restraints held him still despite his best efforts and Salzar glanced up from his notations, his annoyed frown shifting into an amused smile as he took in the little drama.

With a motion of the sorcerer’s hand, a guard grabbed the boy and dragged him over to the table to allow him a good look at his king, revelling in the helplessness of the monarch. The fallen girl was dragged unceremoniously along with him, gasping out in pain as her wrist was wrenched by the sudden movement. Her suffering was utterly ignored by the others.

“Take a good look at him.” The sorcerer purred, reaching out a hand, knotting it in the boy’s hair, forcing his head to stay looking in Van’s direction. “This is your hero, your king. This is the man who ruined our plans for a glorious future.” He gave the boy’s head a sharp shake as Van stared into those dark terrified eyes, willing the boy to remain brave and strong.

“See how helpless he is, how helpless you all are. Know that your miserable waste of a life is going to go towards something greater than the sum of your worthless parts. Why... you should thank us little one. I’m making your life worth something, even if it’s nothing more than a few footnotes in our experiment.”

“King Fanel will rescue us!” The boy spat back viciously, utter belief in his statement shining in those deep hazel eyes. “He’s going to destroy each and every one of you!”

“Interesting. Empty bravado seems to be a trait common in Fanelians. Save your breath for screaming, boy.” The sorcerer hissed, shoving the boy back in the direction of the guards. “It’s all you’ll be doing from now on.” One of the guards paused long enough to give the girl a kick, forcing her to scramble back to her feet and follow her bound partner or be dragged across the floor. Neither dared to voice a complaint over this treatment, they had likely been bound together for some time and this was simply considered normal now. As the child disappeared from his line of sight, the sorcerer smiled once again at Van.

“Did that make you feel strong? Did it give you hope to see one of your dirt grubbing countrymen spouting out that nonsense?” The hand once again reached out and stroked through his hair, the touch was almost possessive and it made the king’s skin crawl a little more with every touch. “Good, hold onto that for as long as you can. It will make breaking you so much more... satisfying.”

With that, he released Van’s hair and pushed several buttons on the machine just behind the king’s head. There was a loud hiss and several of those rather large needles moved into view, their razor sharp tips gleaming ominously in the rooms cruel lights.

“I would suggest holding as still as possible, but it will hurt no matter what you do.” The sorcerer smiled, his thin lips pulling back to display small perfectly white teeth. Another button was pushed and the needles descended, each one piercing into his arms and legs.

Initially, it was a sharp pinch, like the sting of a rather angry wasp. Uncomfortable, but bearable despite knowing that they’d pierced vital arteries and were now slowly drawing blood from his body. While far from pleasant, he knew that he could handle this. It wasn’t so bad...

Then the needles pierced his neck on either side and a second set drove themselves into his hips. The ones in his neck were painful, more like dagger wounds than bee stings, but it was the ones in his hips which caused him to cry out in agony as they began to drill into the bones themselves, seeking the harvest the marrow within.

“Not so brave now are we?” The sorcerer gloated, his voice barely noticed through the fog of pain now tearing its way through Van’s senses. “Don’t worry, we won’t require much marrow today. Merely a trace amount to kick off the initial bonding sequences. It’s your blood that will be doing the majority of the work.”

His arms strained against the straps holding him down and he tried to thrash from side to side, but he was held too tightly. His struggles didn’t even jostle the needles at all despite his best efforts.

“Initializing sequence.” Shroden’s voice cut through the room, easily carrying over Van’s pained cries. The lights above flickered and new machinery began to hum in a rather ominous fashion.

He could see things moving up above where Dilandau’s table was located, but couldn’t make out what it was or it’s purpose. It was nearly impossible to focus on anything but the pain in his hips. Gods of Gaea, it was agonizing! Nearly on par with when the sorcerers tried to take apart Escaflowne, unaware that he felt every cut as if it was his own flesh and blood.

An unearthly shriek tore apart the air around him as a horrifying energist red light bled into his vision and the hair on his arms stood on end. Energy seemed to crackle through the room, quickly growing in intensity until it was palpable against his skin.

He knew the feel of that energy, it was something he’d never forget and he knew that Dilandau was at it’s heart. Much like when they’d been down in the bowels of the Astorian palace, the dragonslayer was releasing the inhuman energy within himself, only this time, there was no one attempting to restrain him and the power tore through the air, saturating it. Around the room, the cylinders of green liquid began to glow and bubble wildly, activating strange and sinister looking machines.

Several rather sharp looking contraptions unfolded above their heads, resembling a spider spreading it’s legs. Within it’s heart was a large crystal globe which was slowly lowered down. The power in the air grew thicker, sparking with purplish red lightning and striking the crystal once... twice. It seemed to be drawing in the energy, harvesting it and the lightning quickly began to dance constantly around it, causing it to glow just the way Hitomi’s pendant did... the way Dilandau’s eyes did.

Gods, it was Dilandau’s screams he was hearing! He’d never heard anyone shriek like that before. What were they doing to him? Tearing him apart?

His own pain seemed to be nothing in comparison to what his companion was suffering, worse, beneath that, he could hear the screams of the other children. The sound was muffled, almost far away sounding, but every bit as pained and terrified. What was going on!? What were those monsters doing to them?!

“Don’t waste your energy so early in the experiment or you’ll never survive the hard part.” The sorcerer above him stated in an almost bored tone of voice.

 

He found himself on a rocky plateau, the stones black as the storm clouds raging around them. Lightning flashed on the edges of his vision, causing spots to dance across his retinas and forcing him to blink repeatedly in an effort to focus. Strange blue flames danced intermittently across the flattened top of the mountain, there was no fuel powering them and they didn’t travel, staying rooted to the spot and feeding on the rocks themselves. Fifteen glowing pyres burning away despite the storm raging around them. This place was familiar... hauntingly so.

It was a poor choice of words.

Though it had been many colours since he’d last been here, the sight and smell of this battleground had seared itself in his memory forever and Van couldn’t quite resist a shiver from travelling across his skin as he looked around expectantly for the ghosts of his fallen enemies to rise up once more.

None appeared. There were no ghastly faces of once beautiful boy soldiers. No whispered promises of death uttered by cold lips. Instead, there was only the distant boom of thunder echoing in the distance and the unnatural flames.

He knew that this wasn’t real... it was a dream of some sort. The war was long over after all. The Dragonslayers had fallen, their leader had been shattered and retreated into madness. It had been one of the pivotal moments of the war for the young king; not because in the fall of his enemies had he seen that Zaibach wasn’t some insurmountable enemy, but because he’d finally realized just what the true stakes were. He saw the monster he would one day become, and it had felt far too comfortable against his skin.

Again lightning flashed, this time much closer than before, blinding him temporarily. With a grunt of pain, Van held an arm up to shield his eyes and turned his face away, hoping to save his vision to some degree. When he lowered it, he found himself standing in the shadow of a dark colossus.

Escaflowne stood there, dark and terrifying. It’s long cloak blew in the wind, it’s eyes glowed a familiar energist red and its once shining white metal was now black as pitch. The blue light from the nearby fires glowed dully upon its surface, seeming to deepen it’s shadows rather than illuminating the shape.

Clutched in the ancient guymelef’s hand was it’s sword, gleaming and deadly, the long blade glistened wetly with blood. It dripped steadily down the length of the steel, pooling onto the stones below. So much blood... too much blood to have come from those who’d fallen in that vicious battle.

He couldn’t stop staring at the ever growing pool of crimson, noting how it seemed to spread, crawling through the rocks and crevices, inching their way towards the pyres which marked where each dragonslayer had fallen. What would happen when they touched?

Van stared at the slow progress of the blood in morbid fascination, unable to tear his eyes away despite his growing sense of unease. Why was he seeing this? What was happening? Why was he even here? The questions hammered into his mind but the answered weren’t forthcoming. He really should know better by now. Even when he did learn, the knowledge was usually something even worse than the preceding ignorance. Maybe for once, he’d just leave... let this mystery remain. What’s the worst that could happen?

A single black feather drifted down into his line of sight, gently playing on the wind as it spiralled and rolled end over end. He knew instantly that it was draconian, despite the colour, he’d seen too many of his own drifting feathers to mistake it for that of a common bird. Worse, he knew what the black hue signified and quickly twisted around to look at his wings, dreading seeing the shadowy plumage decorating their surface, heralding his death.

His wings weren’t there, they remained nestled safely inside his body as always, hiding his heritage from the world at large.

Confused, he glanced at the feather once more before allowing his gaze to drift upwards, past the gently blowing feather, past the tips of the merrily burning flames and up into the darkened clouds roiling up above his head.

They flickered with the sporadic lightning, back-lit by an unnatural greenish hue, far too reminiscent of the sky during Zaibach’s final big for ultimate victory. Power pulsed along his skin, tickling, pulling, sliding beneath his flesh and tugging at his bones, urging him upwards into the stormy abyss.

_“Join us young one.”_ He could almost hear the whisper echoing through his mind, calling to him in a voice which sounded so familiar and comforting that he ached to hear it again. _“Fly with us forever.”_

Lightning flashed once more behind the darkened clouds and for a brief moment, he could see forms illuminated within their depths. Human forms, with great wings outstretched as they circled him relentlessly.

More black feathers drifted down to him, falling like soft dark snowflakes and when one brushed across his skin it left behind a faint trail of ash in its wake. Looking down at the smudge, he shuddered at the memory of just how many times over the past two years he’d brushed ash from his skin, wondering if it had come from buildings... or people.

Suddenly, the circling draconians seemed to take on a more sinister implication and Van took a nervous step back, not wanting to take his eyes off of their ever circling forms.

One step, two... three, his foot brushed against something hard, causing him to stumble and glance down. There were bones, hundreds of them strewn across the land in what looked like the aftermath of a terrible battle. Here and there he could see flag standards jutting up crookedly like broken branches from trees, several still gripped in the skeletal hands of their bearers.

Astoria, Fanelia, Freid, Zaibach... he recognized all of them despite how torn and soot stained they were. Sweet gods of Gaea, there had to be thousands of men here, their bodies left to rot. Had no one buried them? How could they have been left like this!?

Another black feather fell, brushing across the bones before settling on the ground where a pool of thick blood began to well up beneath it. He could smell the stench of death wafting up from below, growing with every feather that touched down until the coppery stink filled the air, tainting his every breath.

_“_ _Join us young one, open your wings and fly. Feast with us on the bones of the world.”_

“Who are you!” Van screamed out at the heavens and the ever circling host. “What do you want with me!?” Something brushed across his foot, cold, wet and filthy. He didn’t bother to look down. Instead he took off running as fast as his legs could carry him.

Other things, cold and stinking reached out for him. Ragged claws, foul with corruption tore at his clothes and gouged his skin, forcing him to finally call forth his wings and take to the air rather than risk falling onto the now carrion strewn ground which burst open beneath his feet. Twisted half dead monstrosities spewed forth from the ragged earthen wounds, each one reaching up to grab him and pull him back down into their midst.

More black feathers fell around him, staining his own shining white wings wherever they touched. The darker they grew, the colder he felt, as if his very soul was becoming stained by their dark taint.

Closing his eyes, Van reached for the pendant around his neck and focused himself on it’s power.

“Please.” He whispered fervently. “Show me the way out of here!” The soft warm brush of power blew through him like a whispered promise, bringing with it a small measure of comfort as the pendulum in his mind began to swing, arching in slow lazy circles as it felt out his options.

There had to be a way!

The coldness began to close in on him, the pendulum slowing, indecisive, or overwhelmed. Dammit!

“FIND ME THE WAY OUT!” He screamed, slamming his will into the pendant, causing it to nearly jerk from his grasp. The pendulum in his mind whirled, bolstered by his will and for a moment, he saw the face of a young girl, her eyes the same brilliant azure of the sky on a summers day, her hair a delicate ashen blonde. Her shy smile widened as she saw him though her eyes were sad and far older than her form suggested. Holding out a slender hand, she beckoned him closer, only to twist away with a childish laugh, leaving behind a swirl of feathers.

The feathers blinded him for a moment, but seemed to quickly blow away, revealing a single tree, growing tall and strong atop the edge of a cliff. It’s wide welcoming branches were thick with leaves, promising shelter and comfort to all who desired it.

Familiarity didn’t bring any welcome warmth. He’d sat among it’s mighty roots before, long ago on the paths of the dead. Watching as the once great civilization of Atlantis fell and burned around him.

The realization caused him to backwing sharply, drawing himself to a sudden halt despite the danger closing in around him. Was that it? Was he dead? Has those sorcerous bastards killed him? If they had, why here? Why was he not joining that terrible procession where he’d march for eternity with the rest of the restless dead? This wasn’t making sense... but, perhaps it wasn’t supposed to. Little else did these days. What was one more slice of madness?

Gritting his teeth, he focused once more on the pendant pointing towards the tree in his mind. So be it. If he was dead, it was too late now, he might as well go see what awaited him beneath the boughs. Besides, once the tree had offered him protection, however fleeting. Perhaps it would do so again.

Bursting forward with renewed vigour, he tore himself away from the darkness of the storm and in that strange way of dreams, suddenly found himself in a field atop the cliff from his vision. There was the familiar tree, it’s branches heavy with leaves and sweet smelling blossoms. Around its base were thickly growing flowers, each one colourful and fragrant, a welcome balm after the stench of death. In the distance, he could see a beautiful mountain range cradling an opulent city, one which had no seen existence in time beyond counting. Atlantis.

As he flew closer, he could make out a pale form kneeling in among the flowers and let out a loud sigh of relief. Who’d have thought that he’d be relieved to find Dilandau of all people? And to find him sitting calmly in the center of a field of flowers? Perhaps it was Celena after all? The two were difficult to tell apart on casual observation... but no, as he flew closer, he could make out the silver hair and slender male physique of the dragonslayer captain.

It figured, here he was, fighting creepy draconians and disgusting not quite corpses in a nightmarish dreamscape, and all the while, Dilandau was gardening of all things!! Obviously he really had gone mad, because there was no way in the world this could actually be happening. Still, if this was madness, there was no sense in fighting it. He could play along until things began making sense once again.

Landing gracefully nearby, Van approached on foot, loathe to surprise the albino who seemed to still be unaware of his approach.

“Dilandau?” He called out softly, taking several cautious steps forward. Still the pale teen didn’t respond to him. His crimson eyes seemed to be fixated on a beautiful iris blooming inches from his nose. Van watched with interest as the dragonslayer reached out a tentative hand and touched the delicate petals, acting as if it was the first time he’d ever seen such a plant.

The deep purple petals bent gently beneath his touch, then curled in upon themselves, darkening and withering in moments as the plant died, the life sucked out of it, leaving only crumbling dust in it’s wake.

Suddenly wary, Van paused in his approach, noting now that the patch of field where Dilandau sat was devoid of life, the vibrant plants coming to an abrupt halt the instant they were within reach.

Undaunted by the death of the plant, those pale fingers reached out to another neighbouring sunflower, lightly stroking the stem. It browned and crumbled to dust in moments, the now dull and desiccated petals blowing away in the gentle breeze.

“Everything I touch dies. Did you know that?” The dragonslayer’s silken voice was soft, little more than a whisper. “He’s right... he’s always right. I don’t deserve to live in the world of men when all I am is a thing... a tool. There’s no difference between me and an alseides. We’re manufactured, we kill and eventually, we burn up.” A faint smile tugged at those pale lips as another beautiful flower died at his hands.

“I don’t know why I can’t just accept it. I’m flawed... so deeply flawed. My sun saw it. He tried to protect me from it... it cost him his life. He knew... just like I did that I’d doomed him with my love.” A long slow sweep of his hands left a swatch of dead flowers in it’s wake and Dilandau gave a low giggle.

“You should kill me you know. It’s the only way to save them.” Those too bright crimson eyes stared up into his, daring him to do it. “I’ll kill them, like I kill everyone. It’s really all I know how to do... destroy.” Glancing back down at the flowers, Dilandau tapped his finger against one, then another, his touch almost playful. “One, two... how many more will die before you stop me Van?” The plants withered at his touch, the life torn away from them.

He knew they were just plants, but there was something about the dragonslayers actions that was profoundly disturbing and he couldn’t quite repress a shudder as two more brilliant flowers crumbled to dust.

“You’re running out of lives to save Van. Mine or theirs. It’s simple numbers really. Kill me and stop all of this. End it all and cripple the Madoushi forever.” He reached for another flower and Van slapped his hand away with an enraged snarl.

“I’m not going to murder you dammit!” He snapped, ignoring the way those ruby eyes narrowed in anger like a thwarted child. There was the strong feeling that more was going on here than he realized, but honestly, he had his hands too full to worry about it. All he knew was that he had to snap Dilandau out of this newest bout of madness before he killed something more than flowers.

“We’re in your head aren’t we?” Van glanced down at Dilandau who continued to sit there glaring at him petulantly, likely annoyed that the king had ruined his little homicidal game. “That’s why there’s all this... muck everywhere.” He waved his hand slightly to encompass their surrounding area, and the darker realms beyond. It certainly explained the massacre site in Freid, though the notable absence of the dragonslayers was more than a little worrisome.

“They won’t come here.” The ruby eyes lowered to the ground as Dilandau idly traced patterns in the ashes of the flowers. They looked like more zaibach writing, but he couldn’t be sure. “This place is secret... so far.”

“Well if we’re in your head, where’s Celena? I thought she was leading me here, I mean I thought I saw her... Anyway, isn’t she supposed to be here... keeping you from doing anything monumentally stupid and self destructive?” And doing a rather piss poor job of it if the state of the dragonslayers brain was any indication. Gods of Gaea, no wonder Dilandau was nuts if that’s the sort of mess his mind was in.

“She was here, but you scared her away.” He didn’t sound overly concerned with her absence. Maybe Celena was better at handling the creepy draconians and what not running around inside his skull than Van was.

“Guimel loved flowers. Did you know that?” Van had no idea who that was, but he was pretty sure that was more than likely one of the dragonslayers. Thankfully, Dilandau didn’t seem concerned over his lack of response. “He grew them secretly in this one hidden terrace on the Vione. It was a big secret and I wasn’t supposed to know about it. Hmph, as if any of my men did anything I didn’t know about.” The smile on his face grew fond and distant, likely remembering better times. “He promised to plant a rose bush at the site of very Dragonslayer battle. There’s one growing by the palace in Fanelia, have you seen it? It will be beautiful in the spring.” Honestly, he hadn’t noticed. He’d never been one for the palace gardens and since the war he’d been far too busy to pay attention to any plant that wasn’t in some way useful to the rebuilding of his kingdom... not that he was going to tell Dilandau this. It seemed important to the other teen. “There’s roses all over Gaea because of us... except for a barren plateau in Freid. I should have planted a rose bush for them... It had always been Guimel’s job...”

As he spoke, Dilandau reached out once again to kill another flower, causing Van to step forward and grab his hands, holding them tightly in his own as he sat down next to his former nemesis.

“Stop that. The flowers haven’t done anything to deserve that. Let them bloom in peace...” His voice drifted off as he stared down at their hands. Where flesh met flesh, his skin tingled rather enticingly. It was a delicious chill that raced up his arm and he could feel the fine hairs on his body stand on end. Fascinated, he shifted slightly, curious to see if he was the only one experiencing this strangeness.

Nope, the nearly invisible hairs on Dilandau’s arms were standing at attention as well and he could feel the dragonslayer trembling slightly.

“Why does this feel weird when I touch you?” He didn’t break the contact despite the strangeness. It didn’t feel dangerous, quite the opposite actually. Despite how precarious their situation was, he felt safe and comfortable.

Once again, Dilandau failed to meet his eyes, staring down at the ground and his designs intently, as if ignoring the situation would make it go away.

“It’s the energy. There’s too much of it... it’s spilling out.” He murmured softly. “That’s why I’m here... Celena figured this would keep me safe.”

“It... it sounded like it hurt... whatever they were doing to you.”

“The pain doesn’t matter... I’m used to it.” Those eyes met his, radiating familiar challenge. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Despite their situation, Van found himself smiling slightly, glad to be back on familiar ground.

“I wasn’t implying that you couldn’t.” He replied without hesitation. “But... what are they doing to those kids? I mean... They’re trying to make more of you right? But didn’t that take years?”

“Months of intense drug therapy and mental conditioning, then various trials before they hit on the idea of using draconian blood... Once they had access to that, things progressed quickly.” He smirked slightly, there was something secretive about the look, as if he was pulling some underhanded trick and not bothering overly hard to hide it. “No... they won’t be like me.”

“So... those kids, those won’t be the seven we end up fighting against? There’s going to be more?” It was difficult to keep the dread from his voice. He didn’t want to fight against those broken and beaten children. One of them was Fanelian, was looking to him to save them! How could he fight against that?

“No... this is a test run. The Madoushi have never used me as a power source like this... not directly at any rate. Then run a few circuits to work out any bugs before bringing in the actual candidates. Survival rates will still likely be low, but I’m sure that I can drop it down to zero.” That fiercely defiant grin was back as Dilandau reached out and brushed another flower with his fingertips.

Van watched it wither and die, annoyance flaring inside him as he once again snatched the hand away.

“Could you focus for just one minute? We need to work on escaping. There’s got to be a way out of here that won’t involve coming into direct contact with those sorcerers. I won’t risk you like that, not after we’ve seen what they’re willing to do.” That seemed to catch Dilandau by surprise and he pulled his attention away from the floral genocide to stare into Van’s eyes.

There was something unfamiliar in the depths of those ruby eyes, beneath the confusion, the fear and ever present shadow of madness. It made the dragonslayer seem so much younger than his sixteen years of life and Van had to admit, even if only to himself that it made the pale youth utterly beautiful.

“Van...” A point tongue brushed lightly across pale lips, moistening them nervously before biting down on them. The hands, still trapped within his own gave a little squeeze, as if to convince himself that they were still there, still holding him. “You... you saved me back there... you didn’t have to.” Dilandau stared at him almost imploringly, trying to understand his actions and the motives behind them. “Why? You hate me... don’t you? I’ve done so many horrible things to you... so why would you save me like that?”

It was impossible not to smile, especially when Dilandau was staring at him with such open innocence. Those beautiful eyes filled with open curiosity and a strange sort of trust. It was an expression he never thought he’d ever see on his rivals face and in an odd way, it felt deeply precious to him.

He’d saved plenty of people before, it was part of being a hero king... although truthfully, he was pretty sure that Hitomi still had a few rescues over on him... but never had he felt that strange flush of warmth in return. Maybe it was because the pale dragonslayer was so infinately capable of holding his own, or due to his pure unadulterated ferocity. Finally seeing him without his proverbial fangs barred defiantly, was a reward in and of itself.

The hero king part of himself wanted to just brush it off as another day, another life saved and leave it at that, but something warned him not to trivialize the action. This was something important to both of them and should be treated as such.

“I...” Van gently released one of Dilandau’s hands, immediately noting the loss of warmth and how that pleasant tingling seemed to lessen. Now it was his turn to fidget nervously and he ran his fingers through his hair only to flinch, remembering how touchy that Salzar bastard was with hair. He was going to wash it the instant he got back to their cell.

“Look,” He finally forced out, aware that he’d been quiet for far too long. “You’re the most crazily determined person I’ve ever met. You’ve never backed down from a challenge, no matter how dangerous, and you’ve stood strong over and over when even I would have tried to compromise. I know what you’ve lost with all of this, but instead of giving up, you’re fighting. You’re pulling in victory after victory, and not just in battle, but with those around you.” He took a deep breath, unable to stop now that he’d gotten started. “When I first saw you in that clearing, I hated you so much and I wanted you to die. I didn’t care how it happened, so long as you were gone and I could feel avenged... but... you didn’t die. You kept going even when I could tell that you wanted nothing more to do with the world. You never let it truly beat you. Not me, not Aston or any of those prigs at court. You’ve always held your head high and taken pride in every aspect of your being. Even finding out about being draconian... you’ve shown more pride in that than I ever have in my whole life.

“I... I never thought I’d admit this Albatou, but I admire you. Despite everything you’ve done to me, rather than hate your guts, I admire you.” He never once took his eyes off of Dilandau’s and noted how they widened in shock, the pupils contracting sharply in response to his words, though oddly enough, the dragonslayer didn’t pull away. Instead, he listened intently, treating every word uttered with a rare respect.

“When I first learned about the anchor controls on you, I was disgusted. I thought that it was horrible and monstrous and the idea that Gaddes had that level of control over you was appalling. But... that’s not what it was. He didn’t abuse his power did he? He respected you and wanted to protect you so badly that he ended up pushing you away. Seeing Shroden and that other sorcerer, I see now what that control really does to you, and the idea of seeing anyone as fierce as you treated like that is galling. No one should suffer like that or be treated so contemptibly, but to see them do it to you...”

For a moment his voice seized up with emotion as he struggled to maintain his control despite the rising fury at the memories of abuse.

“Look... what I mean to say is, I can see now why your Dragonslayers loved you the way they did. You’re an amazing person Dilandau Albatou and I’m going to get us both out of this mess alive and intact. All I ask is that you help me accomplish this so we can tear these bastards apart the way they rightly deserve. For you, those those kids out there and for all their victims in the past.”

Silence filled the clifftop as he waited for Dilandau’s reaction, more than half expecting a slap or derisive laughter mocking his moment of emotional weakness. Hells, even a quip about burning Fanelia or something equally offensive. Instead, Dilandau simply continued to look at him as if seeing him for the first time.

Silently, Dilandau reached out to a delicate looking orange lily. This time the flower didn’t wither at his touch. Instead, his fingers deftly twisted it around a gaillardia and as Van watched, the two plants seemed to meld perfectly into each other, becoming a new and altogether lovely plant the colour of flames.

“You’ll take care of it won’t you?” He asked, crimson eyes locked on the golden petals. “Flowers need care and a nurturing hand in order to bloom... I’m terrible with them. I only know how to tend plants that hurt others. Still... this one has potential don’t you think?”

Leaning back slightly, the dragonslayer admired his work with a smile, looking almost proud of himself. Van wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture, but he was sure that’s exactly what it was, a strange yet beautiful thank you from an equally strange and beautiful young man.

“No one’s ever saved me from the Madoushi before... no one’s even tried.” His words were softly spoken, barely heard over the gentle breeze. “I like to think that my men would have tried... or Gaddes...” With his free hand, Dilandau traced his fingertips over the scar marring his cheek, the touch was light and fleeting. A glimmer of wry amusement flickered through his eyes and the edges of his lips curled up in a faint smile.

“You saved me from a wound far worse than this... so I’ll forgive you for stealing away my beauty.” Now it was Van’s turn to raise an eyebrow skeptically.

“I threw away my pride and crawled on my belly to save you from being blinded and you _forgive_ me for scarring you in self defence?” There was no way he was going to keep the incredulity out of his voice so he didn’t even bother to try.

“Yes, that’s what I said wasn’t it?” Dilandau sniffed imperiously, as if he’d just bestowed some great reward on the dark king. A laugh worked its way past Van’s lips. He simply couldn’t help himself, the action was just such pure Dilandau that he couldn’t even find the will to put it into words. “I still owe you for my dragonslayers though, so don’t go getting cocky on me Fanelia.” He warned, those crimson eyes narrowing dangerously despite the glimmer of warmth in their depths. “Don’t go thinking that your pissant little barbarian country even comes close to comparing to their loss.”

It was an old wound, well scarred over and Van didn’t feel any pain at it’s mention. Fanelia was healing after all, being rebuilt. Those fifteen lives left burning on the barren plateau on Freid were forever gone. He supposed that in the end, he did owe the captain that much.

“We... we should get back, don’t you think?” He murmured, realizing that the two of them had been staring at each other in perfect silence for a rather impressively long time. Though he wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed, he knew that it had gone well beyond what was proper.

To his surprise, Dilandau shook his head and looked out over the ruins of the once great city down below.

“No... not yet. They’re not done yet. You don’t want to go back until they’re finished.” Again, Dilandau chewed slightly on his bottom lip, watching Van out of the corner of his eye, neither of them realizing that they still held hands. Even had they known, neither would have brought it up. Both needed the comfort of another at this moment and were loathe to lose even a fraction of it to empty pride. “Stay with me? I... I promise not to kill anymore flowers if you do.” His smile was almost shy and Van found himself unable to refuse.

“Won’t Celena mind?” It was hard to imagine that Allen’s lost little sister would be thrilled at having her last haven usurped by an intruder.

“No... she’s happy that you’re here.” Dilandau murmured slightly, his cheeks reddening slightly. “We tend to argue a lot... she thinks you might be a good influence on me.” He seemed to regain his composure and gave his head an arrogant tilt as he regarded the shorter teen slyly. “I pointed out that the more time you spend around me, the more the stick up your ass comes loose. Soon we might even make you tolerable to be around.”

“I do NOT have a stick up my... my...”

“Heh, you can’t even say it. Proper little king you are.”

“Stuff it Albatou.” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he leaned back, enjoying the warmth on his skin, the fragrant breeze and the surprisingly good company. Smiling that strange smile again, Dilandau leaned lightly against him, keeping the movement casual, almost accidental, save that he didn’t immediately pull away. Allowing himself a slight smile of his own, Van glanced back down to the strange flame coloured plant, wondering what it meant to have been asked to protect and nurture something deep in the core of the dragonslayers mind.

 

Van found himself blinking in confusion as he stared up into the too bright lights of the lab, acutely aware once again of the ice cold table and the utter agony of his body. The warm field was gone, as were the flowers, Dilandau, and the sense of safety they’d shared with each other. Instead, he saw Salzar hovering over him, removing the last of the needles from his body and pouring a burning antiseptic over his already badly bruising skin, making the king hiss under his breath in pain.

“Vessel 01 has regained consciousness at 1100 hours. Vitals are strong and stable. Response to Elixir A-34 is prodigious. Blood regeneration should be completed within thirteen hours. We will begin the procedure again at 0600 tomorrow. Effective immediately, we will begin rounds of Dycloxin, Rumitab A6 at 30 mg each and an Elixir A-34 regimen.” He spoke into a small tube he held in his hand while mucking about with something on the nearby desk. Van did his best not to notice the sharp and rather bloody instruments scattered about. What in Gaea’s name did they do to him while he was unconscous?!

Everything hurt far more than it should. In fact he felt cold right down to his bones and those damn bones were all screaming in pain. His hips felt like they’d been broken in half then hollowed out with rusted metal and his abdomen screamed at him with every breath he took. Had they cut him? Obviously they had... and he couldn’t sit up to examine the damage. All he could do was lay there and listen to the man babble on in Zaibach jargon, using a bunch of words he didn’t recognize.

“What... what did you do to me?” He groaned, speaking through his teeth because moving his jaw just hurt too damn much. Wait... was there blood in his mouth!? What the hell? Feeling around with his tongue, he quickly noticed a gap where one of his wisdom teeth used to be. Who in Gaea’s name stole a tooth!?!? He was still using that dammit!

Of course the sorcerer didn’t pay him any attention. Instead he put down the little device in his hand and picked up a syringe filled with a thick yellowish substance that didn’t look at all appealing. Van wanted desperately to cringe away as it was brought closer to his body, but seeing as how he was still restrained, there was little he could do.

Instead, he lay there helplessly as the thick needle was inserted into his arm and the alien substance forced into him. It hurt. Oh sweet gods it hurt and he fought against the tears that edged his eyes, doing his best to blink them away before anyone saw them. Still, at least he managed to not make a sound. Not that the sorcerer cared. He simply removed the metal spike from his skin and gave a quick swipe with one of those icy cold burning cloths.

One of the guards finally stepped forward and began to unfasten the restraints, allowing Van to sit up, something he immediately attempted to do, only to fall back onto the table as agony tore at his insides.

He’d only seen a quick glimpse, but it was enough. There was a wound on the right side of his abdomen, just below his rib cage. Neat precise stitches kept the wound tightly closed and he was rather sure that it wouldn’t even leave a scar once it fully healed, or if it did, it would be practically invisible... like the ones that decorated Dilandau’s body.

It was a strange deep sense of violation he felt, knowing that the sorcerers had been inside his body, that they’d opened him up and taken pieces of himself away. He had no idea why they’d done it, but he was positive it didn’t bode well.

Not once was he asked if he was in pain, or how he was feeling. It simply didn’t matter to his captors. They didn’t even allow him to lay down and gather himself together before the guard grabbed his arm and yanked him sharply off the table.

Salzar barked something in Basrami at the man, the tone of his voice sharp and filled with disapproval. Van caught just enough to know that he was being reprimanded about possibly tearing the stitches. The guard offered no apology, though this time when he grabbed onto the king’s arm, he wasn’t manhandled quite as roughly. Still, the intention was clear; he’d been relaxing for far too long and it was time to move under his own power. Of course, the fanelian youth had no clue how to accomplish that task after what his body had just been through.

His head spun, his stomach churned and he was rather sure that his legs weren’t going to hold up his body weight anytime soon. Not that that seemed to discourage the guard who gave him another somewhat sharp warning tug.

A quick glance at the other table showed that Dilandau was already on his feet. The albino’s skin was a sickly grey and sweat glistened off of his body, soaking his hair. Dull crimson eyes stood out against the dark hollows of his eye sockets, but he still stood perfectly still, almost at attention despite the effort it was obviously costing him.

Taking some strength in the other teens determination, Van grit his teeth and forced his body to obey, promising it that the instant they were back in their cell, they were going to lay down and not move for a year... or at least until six am the next morning when this nightmare would begin again.

“W... where are the kids?” He ground out, hating how weak his voice sounded, or how difficult it was to catch his breath after the simple act of speaking. The guard simply gave him a sharp jab with the energist staff, forcing him to move rather than answering his question.

It was Shroden’s cruel laugh that brought them up short, causing the guard to take a reluctant step back, giving Van a little breathing room.

“There is no harm in allowing the Vessel to see it’s new children.” He all but purred. “Salzar, show him what his body has wrought.”

Obediently, the other sorcerer grabbed Van by the arm, dragging him none too gently towards the large cylinder pods he’d noticed the other day, the ones large enough to hold a full grown man... or two seriously underfed youths...

One look was all he needed to haunt his waking hours for the rest of his life.

The children had been crammed inside with their partners, forced to stand shoulder to shoulder too tightly packed in to move. Thick tubes had then pierced their vulnerable bodies from all sides and even now pumped in several strange glowing fluids. A thin flexible tube going into their throats contained what looked like blood... Van’s blood. It fed into them slowly, drop by precious drop, binding them inexorably together with the king.

That wasn’t the worst part, not by far. What would torment him for the rest of his life was the fact that some strange magic had actually been enacted upon the children, fusing their bodies with each other in horrific fashion. They’d ceased to be human and had been turned into some twisted nightmare beings bearing little resemblance to their original species.

One bore two heads, their features flowing into each other like hot wax, their faces caught in a final moment of utter agonizing terror, warning that they’d been fully awake an aware when the transformation had taken place.

Another pair had extra arms, one placed in the center of the chest while the other balanced oddly on off of one shoulder. They’d clawed themselves open inside their tube, splattering the interior with blood and tissue as they’d dug into their soft internal organs in an agony induced frenzy.

A third had simply been turned inside out and fused. Exposed organs pulsated spaztically, struggling to hold onto their torturous life despite the odds. Van could see the heart beating in a frantic rhythm even as lungs continued to pump air, keeping their tortured brain alive. A single blue eye stared out at them fro the organic mess, wild and lost to madness, it seemed to silently scream at them, begging for death.

There were others in even worse shape, for them, death had been quick. Their bodies had withered away under the vast amounts of power being pumped through them, shrivelling them until they were browned out hollow shells. Withered flowers...

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Van fell to his knees, vomiting up a foul stream of bile onto the floor. Lamentably, he missed the sorcerer’s robes, but at that point, he really didn’t care. All he could see were those mutated faces screaming in agony, that single eye staring at him... begging for the death he’d denied it. Gods of Gaea help them!!

“You’d promised me a perfect success rate Shroden!” A snide voice cut through Van’s misery, causing him to look up from his place on the floor. Two pairs of well shone boots entered into his vision. One belonged to General Tseng, the other was that tall officer with the cold flat eyes.

Following what seemed to be an ongoing trend, the general utterly ignored Van, actually knocking him physically out of the way as he peered into the various cylinders, studying the remains of the victims within.

“This doesn’t look like one hundred percent success. If I wanted dead freaks, I’d make them myself.” The general radiated utter contempt as he glared at Shroden, so secure in his own power that he didn’t even consider what a threat the man might be to him.

“I warned you that the first batch would require extensive adjustment. This is the first time we’ve used Subject 35 exclusively as a power source. We must make the appropriate fine calibrations to make up for the differences between his energy frequencies and that of the new Fate Alteration Engine.” Shroden didn’t sound the least bit contrite. In fact, the man sounded annoyed at being questioned by someone he considered to be utterly ignorant.

“I didn’t bring you here for excuses. We have a strict time table for this project and I intend to bring my superiors a successful finished product by the end of the colour. Step up production.”

“We are proceeding within expected parameters General. Altering the time table will result in significant risk to Subject 35 or Vessel 02. Might I remind you that losing either of them will bring the entire project to a halt?” The sorcerer drew himself up to his full and impressive height, wrapping his long cloak about himself as he glared down his nose at the much shorter general. Scorn dripped from his every word, not that Tseng seemed to notice.

“How many of the specimen are expected to survive today?” A booted foot gave one of the cylinders a contemptuous kick. It wasn’t hard enough to cause any damage, but Van flinched at the sound, loathing the level of disrespect being shown to those suffering within.

“Two have fused successfully though one appears to clearly be a superior specimen. We will be continuing the project along the target deadline with them while readying the second batch for tomorrow. It will of course produce additional strain on the Vessel, but I believe it will survive the experience without issue.”

“What about your precious 35?”

“Subject 35 has shown to have ample energy for our requirements. The new batch will make up for the loss of today’s test subjects. It will cause no additional strain.”

The general nodded his head, giving the bodies within the container another searching look. Disappointment was etched across his face but his eyes glittered with an eager malice that made Van wary. The bastard was lying through his teeth, he was pleased with the progress made, that much was clear, he was just trying to exert power over Shroden, doing his best to keep the sorcerer off balance. It wasn’t working in the least. The Zaibachi had obviously dealt with far more sinister individuals than one sadistic general.

“I’m growing concerned with just how much of your attention is on the experiment and how much is focused on your precious Subject 35.” General Tseng sneered in Dilandau’s direction, as if the dragonslayer were to blame. “I have several officers who would enjoy a chance to ruin his pretty face... not to mention other parts of his body. Perhaps then you wouldn’t be quite so... distracted?” A black gloved hand reached out and thick fingers stroked along the scar marring that pale alabaster cheek.

“Still, he does wear his scars well, perhaps they might even be an improvement.” The man laughed as if he’d made an amusing joke. No one else joined him in his mirth. In fact, Dilandau was visibly clenching gritting his teeth, his slender fingers balled tightly into fists. All he was waiting for was a single word from Shroden and he’d attack with lethal force. In fact, Van was willing to bet that if this continued much longer, he wouldn’t even wait for the order.

For his part, Shroden never once even batted an eye, oblivious to any threats made against his favourite victim.

“You’ve read the reports General. It’s established practice to reward Subject 35 for his successes, it calms him and aids in reestablishing his place within the anchor bond.”

“Yes yes, I’m well aware of your perversions.” The General sneered once again. “Dressing it up with pretty words doesn’t change it. Perhaps I should simply give him to an officer or two? That would accomplish the same thing wouldn’t it?”

“If that’s your desire General, so long as his drugs are administered at the proper time and dosages, though I would advise that he be allowed to rest this evening in order to rebuild his energy levels.” Clearly this wasn’t what the General wanted to hear and Van watched as Tseng’s smirk slowly shifted into a scowl. It wasn’t any fun for the man to bully someone who clearly didn’t care one way or the other.

“Hmph,” He grunted, pushing Dilandau away from him in clear disgust, allowing Van to take a deep breath of relief. “You said he was given such indulgences as a reward, I see no reason why he should be rewarded. After all, almost all of the test subjects are either dead or dying. Only two viable subjects... it’s disgraceful. Send the little whore to his cell with the freak. The guards say that not even the little halfbreed beast wants anything to do with him now that you’ve had a go at the slut. Not that I can blame it.” A cruel sneer was aimed in Van’s direction but like Shroden, he chose to ignore the taunting, focusing instead on the surprisingly stricken look on Dilandau’s face. The guy actually looked as if he was really being punished.

Just when he thought he was starting to understand Dilandau, he had to go and react to something in a way which made no sense at all. Did he honestly want to be used like that? Ugh, it was too screwed up to even contemplate.

“Perhaps a night of abstinence will encourage you both towards greater success next time.” Tseng turned his back on them all and began walking away, the tall officer following silently in his wake. “I will be here tomorrow to witness the results Shroden.” He advised as he headed towards the door, not even bothering to look at them as he spoke. “I trust I will be more pleasantly surprised.”

No one replied as the man left the room. Dilandau fumed silently, still standing at perfect attention until ordered otherwise. The two sorcerers merely watched the departing general with their usual clinical detachment while the guards... who knew what they were feeling. Their faces were covered by those damn masks. As for Van, all he felt was a deep sense of relief. Whether he wanted it or not, Dilandau had been spared for the night and the two of them could rest and regain their energy. Perhaps tomorrow would yield a chance for escape.

Giving the tanks and their nightmarish contents a sidelong glance, Van made a silent vow to their tortured inhabitants. Before they escaped, they would either free those trapped within, or ensure an end to their suffering. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to give.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah.... the Madoushi are monsters, the General isn't any better and Dilandau manages to make gardening really kind of creepy. No wonder Celena decided to make herself scarce. (that and the lack of tasty snails)  
> Lots of fun tidbits were dropped in this chapter, lots of information too, yay information!  
> Next Chapter: Gaddes learns he's more of a dog person.


	6. Cat Scratch Fever!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New faces, new idea and some new revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's hear it for seeing the end to one hell of an annoying cold! This chapter got a few rewrites as I realized that certain characters really hadn't had enough screen time even after I'd said that I'd make more use of them. So here they are and yes, they will be taking a more active role in everything unfolding!   
> Special things to Drkstars for coming up with the name Kamata. ^_^ It's perfect.

“How is he not dead?” Merle poked her head above the edge of the bed and stared at the unnaturally still form of Palos. There was a rather strong temptation to reach over and poke him in the arm with her claws, but Millerna glanced over in her direction with a warning look in her eyes. Smiling widely with mock innocence, the cat girl lowered her hand and continued to stare at the man, wondering if he was ever going to do anything interesting.

“I mean, his throat was cut... doesn’t that mean he should be dead? Is he a zombie?” Her fur bristled at the thought but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she stared at the man’s gauze wrapped neck which hid the many stitches holding his throat closed. Only a few days ago, she’d seen this man’s insides... she’d been breathing for him, her every movement ensuring that he continued to live for another breath. It was more than a little creepy.

“We were lucky that we got to him in time.” The princess stated absently as she checked several of the large machines which had been placed around the patient, ensuring that he continued to live despite his dire physical condition. “His carotid artery wasn’t cut, but he did lose a lot of blood, and he wasn’t in the best shape to begin with.” She added, taking a moment to check his vitals against previous results. Everything was still stable and the messenger seemed to be regaining some colour to his skin which was a good sign. More importantly, the wound was clean, showing no sign of infection.

“I don’t know about lucky.” Merle grumbled softly, sitting back on her heels and crossing her arms over her chest petulantly. “Lucky would mean getting there in time to save King Van.”

“Perhaps.” The princess conceded before turning away from Palos and gently patting a nearby chair. “But perhaps things happened as they needed to. Have you thought of that?” A large furred ear twitched with interest despite the desire to flatten against her head at the very idea of accepting the loss of her beloved friend and king.

“That makes no sense, and don’t tell me something like it’s Jeture’s will, because that’s stupid.” Her tone was perhaps a little more harsh than intended but the warmth of Millerna’s smile never wavered.

Rather than lecturing the young cat girl on manners, the princess patiently began to examine her wounds, ensuring that she was recovering from her time in captivity. Everything was still tender and it hurt to move quickly, but Merle really didn’t want to complain, not when there was a guy laying next to her who was fighting just to fill his lungs with oxygen. Compared to that, her sprains, scratches and broken tail really didn’t seem like much... okay, the tail sucked and would likely be forever kinked, but still, it was better than a slit throat.

“You need to drink more.” Millerna advised gently after spending a full minute staring at Merle’s tongue and into her eyes.

“The water tastes funny here.” The protest sounded weak, especially when she knew how important it was that she drink her fill repeatedly to make up for the days of dehydration.

“Drink it anyway, and don’t forget your tablets. Your body is still low on several enzymes. We need to give you a good boost so that it will start doing it’s job of healing properly.” The tablets tasted disgusting too, but there was no point in complaining, the princess would still make her eat them, and likely check to make sure she had.

“Your body has been through a lot Merle.” The princess stated, stepping back to give the cat girl some room though she didn’t go far. Just to the table to pour a large glass of that damn water. Ugh, what she wouldn’t give for some gourd juice. “These are important years for your physical development and if you don’t take better care of yourself, your body will never manage to reach it’s full potential.”

“I don’t care about that!” Merle hissed angrily, her claws digging into the arms of the chair. “I want to get Van back! Right now he could be hurt! They could be torturing him! That pale faced freak is probably doing horrible things to him!”

Her voice was growing louder, the accusations spit out with an underlying growl as her tail lashed back and forth viciously. Rather than back away, Millerna smiled gently and placed the cup of water on a nearby table then sat down across from the angry kitten, her face full of perfectly composed patience.

“When I was young... younger than you, I used to follow this knight named Sir Tibore all over the palace. He was a handsome man and would have had every woman in court doting on him had it not been for a terrible injury he’d sustained in a battle shortly after he’d been knighted.” Millerna’s smile grew wistful and sad as she brushed a stray lock of pale golden hair from her face with a delicate movement of her hands.

Frowning at the princess, Merle huffed loudly and sat back in the chair, her large ears flattening as she prepared for what was no doubt going to be a long and boring story. She desperately wanted to tell the woman to shut up, that no one cared about some gimpy knight. There were bigger things on her mind. Van sized things! Still, one had to humour royalty. It was a lesson she’d learned long ago.

“He’d been hit with an arrow in his chest and though he survived, his lung was badly damaged and he took sick very easily. Most men would have been bitter at this weakness, lamenting the loss of their grand goals, but Sir Tibore was so king and generous. I don’t believe I ever saw a frown darken his face and his laughter was like hearing gold given voice.”

“Yeah... I’m sure he was great.” Merle grumbled, sniffing at her water cup and deciding that drinking it would probably be a better distraction than listening to the princess go on and on about her first crush. Undaunted by the lack of interest in her audience, Millerna continued on.

“I used to follow him everywhere and no matter what he was doing, he always found the time to indulge me a little. Saying hello, giving me a flower or a treat. He’s sometimes even tell me stories of far off lands. Needless to say I was captivated by the man.”

“Clearly.” Deadpanned snark obviously wasn’t working and with a heavy sigh, Merle took a long drink of her water, settling in for the long haul.

“Then, he got a lung infection. It had started as a simple chill one winter but it grew worse and worse. I watched helplessly as this wonderful kind man faded away to a shade of his former self.” The princess’ smile faded into a look of deep sorrow as she recalled the painful events. Feeling somewhat guilty, Merle did her best to dredge up some sort of interest though honestly, she had no idea why the woman was telling her this. Was she that hard up for company? Didn’t she have handmaidens to blather to?

“Our doctors couldn’t do anything, he was beyond their help. We all knew he was dying and likely wouldn’t last the winter, likely not even the colour. I would often slip away from my governess and visit his bedside, bringing him a winter flower or cookie, trying to repay his kindness. The poor man must have been terrified, but he still always smiled at me, always indulged in my childish demands for attention no matter how much pain he had to have been in.

“A zaibach delegation was visiting one colour and heard of the plight of Sir Tibore. One of their sorcerers was with them and took an interest in the situation. He was granted permission to see the knight and within an hour deduced not only the cause, but told us of a cure. They had a way that could have removed his damaged lung, giving him a new and healthy one, fortified with their magics. I remember hiding in a doorway listening to the cloaked man explaining the procedure in detail to Sir Tibore. It sounded terrifying and impossible, bu the was so confident that it would work.” The princess smiled slightly, tears glittering on the edges of her lashes, warning Merle that this story didn’t have a happy ending.

“Sir Tibore agreed to undergo the procedure. As fantastical as it sounded, it was far less terrifying than simply sitting back and meekly accepting death. Arrangements were made to have him join the delegation when they returned to Zaibach, but... he didn’t make it.

“Three days before they were due to leave, the infections in his lungs claimed his life. He was only twenty five and had so many years ahead of him. It shattered my heart when he returned to Jeture’s embrace though that was nothing compared to learning that his condition could have been prevented long ago had we had even half the technology available to Zaibach. They would have been able to prevent his initial injury from worsening to the point that his life was endangered. True, he might never have been a knight again, but he still would have been able to live a full life, sharing his kindness with all of Gaea.

“I remember crying my heart out when I heard about his death and I stomped over to the sorcerer and demanded to know why he couldn’t have spared my beloved knight. Why he’d let this wonderful man die.

“Rather than simply brush me aside as our own doctors had done, seeing me as little more than a hysterical girl unable to control her emotions, the sorcerer smiled at me and gave me a book.

_“_ _No fate is ever truly set in stone.”_ He said to me. _“Those who understand it can manipulate it as they see fit, ensuring true justice in the world. Read this, learn this and do not allow yourself to be it’s victim any longer.”_

“It was a medical journal, but one unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Our are all half superstition and old wives tales. This one was filled with information I’d never even dreamed of before. Naturally, I was too young to understand much of it, but even then, I recognized the value of what was held in those pages. I also knew that I would never be allowed to keep such heretical literature. Imagine, a princess of Astoria reading a book filled with drawings of skinless bodies, not to mention detailed illustrations of human anatomy! The scandal!

“So I hid the book and read it over and over again in secret. Over the years, more and more of it began to make sense and I compared it with my own countries studies. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know and it hurt so deeply to see how ignorant so many people were to such simple solutions of common maladies.

“I’d always seen illness as some terrible and mysterious curse, but now I understood that there were real world causes and more importantly, ways to prevent many of them. The world became less terrifying and mysterious and instead there was a certain sense to the order behind it all. I began to understand a little of what that sorcerer told me years before. You can’t control what you don’t understand, and so long as we remain ignorant to the world around us, we’re forever at it’s mercy.

“There are few enough things in this world that a woman is allowed to control. I see little point in allowing myself to become a leaf on the winds of fate, being blown in one direction or other when I can instead choose to be a bird, and soar where I desire.”

“I’m still not allowed to officially practice the medicine I’ve learned, did you know that? Despite the fact that I’m about to become a queen, I’m still expected to simply sit quietly in my solar and practice my needlepoint. Without my skills, Allen would have died in Freid, Palos would have been beyond saving, not to mention the countless women who I’ve been inviting over for “tea”, giving them special herbs to help them combat various ailments.”

Merle found herself listening with interest as the story drew to a close. While it wasn’t clear what Millerna was hoping to convey with her tale, she found herself more than a little intrigued with how the princess had rebelled against society and done her own damn thing. She’d always sort of seen the woman as a frilly dressed hanger on who really didn’t do much other than annoy Hitomi (always a plus) and simper after Allen, though thankfully that last bit had stopped once she’d gotten married to Dryden.

“It tears me apart wondering if I could have saved my sister.” The princess continued in a quiet voice. “I wanted to so badly, but she sickened so quickly. It seemed that only days after being told that she’d been confined to bed, I was hearing that she was gone.

“There is only one thing worse than being able to do nothing to aid a loved one, being unable to aid a loved one because you have nothing to give of yourself. That happened to me once and I vowed that I would never let it happen to me again. So let them scoff at me, let them doubt my abilities. I’ve saved those I care about with my hard learned skills and I will continue to do so for all who need them.”

Her gentle smile returned and fixed on Merle, radiating tender patience despite the pain still residing in the depths of her eyes.

“Come help me change Palos’ bandages, you can monitor his vitals while I clean his breathing tube.”

Merle glanced over at the still figure on the bed, unsure as to why Millerna was making this request. She’d only come to get her check up, not to help some stupid messenger who was of no use to her so long as he remained unconscious. She’d much rather be listening to the others trying to sort out where Van might have been taken and watch them come up with various strategies which were all too cautious as far as she was concerned. Didn’t they realize that she needed him? He was her everything!

Her heart skipped a beat as she drew in a sharp breath, glancing at the princess, then the still body on the bed. That was right... he really was her everything. What was she without him? What did she give that didn’t filter through his actions? It had always been known to her that others saw her as little more than Van’s pet, despite what he said to the contrary... but were they right?

She had no skills, no great knowledge, no aspirations beyond being with him forever. What was she without him standing over her, sharing a warm smile and gentle word? What was she without his shadow wrapping around her like a warm blanket? Was she truly a person? Or merely an accessory?

Blu eyes narrowed as she studied the princess, wondering if this is what Millerna had been trying to say. Astoria wanted her to be a figurehead, an example of courtly grace and beauty but little else beyond the wife of her husband. Though she was the royal in the relationship, he was the one who’d hold the power and make the official decisions for the country. She would merely stand at his side and eventually give him heirs to take his place when he became too old to rule.

Instead, she’d become her own person and learned to stand on her own two feet without relying on someone else to define her. She’d learned medicine... real medicine and had saved lives, stepping in when all other hope was lost. Could Merle do that too? Could she become valuable as more than her king’s companion? If so... how?

The very concept set her mind abuzz and her tail flicked back and forth with a life of it’s own even as she rose to her feet and slunk over to the side of the fallen messenger. The idea of holding his life in her hands didn’t appeal to her the way it did with the princess. She still found it creepy and unsettling to hold so much power over the life of another... but at least she was thinking now.

They would get Van back, she couldn’t let herself doubt that. He was going to return and when he did, she planned on being more for him than a fuzzy shadow following him around. There had to be something she could do, some service she could provide that would make him look at her as more than a pet, more than just a friend. Maybe she could become a peer, someone he could really truly look at and talk to as an equal rather than someone who would simply agree with anything he had to say. Was it possible?

The questions continued to reverberate through her mind as she followed Millerna’s instructions, learning how to tend to the healing wound and checking for signs of infection. For the first time, she actually found herself struggling to pay attention rather than simply nodding her head and doing as she was told, if only to get away sooner. Now she asked questions and studied the wounds as the stitching around them. She actively checked his vitals, listening to the explanations given on how the various systems of the body interacted with each other and how skin could often be the first indicator that something was wrong.

It was a stepping stone, but a vital one. While she knew that she’d never pursue medicine with the same voracious dedication as the princess, it gave her something she’d never had before. Focus on something beyond her childhood friend and skills which might one day take her beyond his shadow.

 

 

 

 

Gaddes was quickly coming to the stark realization that he hated cats.

“Are you even listening to me?” Bored golden eyes flickered lazily in his direction, not even bothering to pretend to be at all interested in what he had to say. A wide yawn revealed sharp canines which glinted in a somewhat threatening manner, reminding the crewman that he really was growing to loathe uppity teenagers.

“No, not really. Who are you again and why should I care?” Yup, he really, really hated cats. Especially teenage ones. One was bad enough. Two was just pushing past the limits of sanity.

He’d only been dealing with Rhasha’s spawn for a whole five minutes, most of that time had consisted of him trying to speak while the pale furred teenager studiously ignored him in favour of poking at a nearby potted plant, tearing one of the broad flat leaves with his claw tip.

“I’m Captain Albatou’s second in command for this unit.” He repeated, positive that he’d already stated that once already... not that the kid had been listening. Would it be considered a social faux pas to strangle the fuzzy brat? Maybe his father wouldn’t mind. Surely he had other ankle biters at home.

At least that statement seemed to capture the kid’s attention this time around. Straightening up and turning, he fixed narrowing golden eyes on the sergeant, studying him with predatory intensity. It was an unnerving look, purely predatory, but after a month of dealing with Dilandau in all his fabulous fits of rage, this kid was little more than a pale irritating shadow. It was like comparing a kitten to a lion. An annoying nippy kitten who piddled on the rug.

“Is it true that he was kidnapped?” Yup, this kid hadn’t inherited a single subtle bone in his body and Gaddes couldn’t help but bristle at the bluntness of the question. As if this arrogant little brat had any right to ask that! Besides, why would they lie about something like that? Did he think they were idiots? Was he an idiot? “Because if he’s supposed to be as amazing a warrior as the stories say... he really should have put up more of a fight. Same with that Fanelian king.” No, it wasn’t idiocy, it was just pure arrogance and teenage testosterone at its best. The kid barely sounded like he even cared, leading Gaddes to believe that he was just being prodded for the hell of it. This was nothing more than a scrawny little kitten trying to be the big bad alpha predator. Too bad he had nothing more to back that up than ego and Gaddes had been busting down ego’s for even longer than he’d been busting asses.

Still, it was no wonder his father was worried about him being off on his own as a mercenary. With his crap attitude, any company leader would have this fuzzball strung up by his guts within a few minutes of him opening his mouth. It wouldn’t matter what fancy sword work he might know. Most mercenary leaders had notoriously short tempers and no time to indulge spoiled little rich kids... except him. Apparently Gaddes was a magnet for arrogant teenagers. He seemed to draw them like flies.

“What’s you name kid?” Gaddes asked instead of just backhanding the smug smirk off the kitten’s face, though it really was a close call.

Somehow, the kid managed to dredge up a sneer of disdain as he leaned back slightly against the wall and crossed his arms insolently over his chest, his long fluffy striped tail swishing back and forth behind his ankles.

“Cassian Moreaux.” His tone was utterly condescending in all the worst ways and Gaddes closed his eyes for a moment, taking the time to count to ten twice. Yeah, this runt had all the arrogance of Dilandau but not the charisma to pull it off. Granted, he was pretty enough if you went for beastmen. The cat was slender yet well built, likely more agile than strong, but Gaddes was sure he could move like lightning when properly motivated. White and grey fur covered his body with black stripes similar to Merle’s decorating his pelt rather prettily. Shocking golden eyes watched his every move from beneath lowered lashes and vibrant indigo hair fell down past his shoulders, styled close to his head, though had a bit of a habit of falling in front of his eyes.

His clothes were well tailored and spoke of wealth, though sensible practicality. He hadn’t bothered with the currently fashionable lace adornments though he did sport a rather pretty necklace bearing a rather large sapphire on his neck and a matching stone in his left ear. No doubt Dilandau would love him, if he didn’t kill him for daring to open his mouth uninvited.

“Cassian.” Gaddes leaned forward, his elbows on his desk, his eyes holding that icy gold stare without flinching as he channelled his inner brat. “Let me make one thing clear to you. You are in this unit only with the approval of Lord Dilandau. If he decides that he doesn’t like you for whatever reason, you’re out on your own in the big bad world and I can assure you that with your attitude, you’ll be turned into violin strings in no time.” The kitten’s mouth opened up as he prepared to no doubt dump some toxic insults in the sergeants direction, but Gaddes cut him off before any sound could make it past his obnoxious little throat. “You don’t get to speak until I’ve said my piece. If you don’t like it, the door is right over there and no one is stopping you from using it.” The kid’s mouth snapped shut audibly and the sergeant had to actually struggle to not smirk in delight at finally managing to put the teenager in his place. Hah! Take that!

“Up until now, you’ve had teachers hired by your father, paid with your father’s money and dedicated to making sure that you were not only shown how to look all stylish with a blade, but flatter your delicate little ego as well. Understand this. I don’t give a shit about your ego, your feelings or your father’s money. He’s not paying me. King Aston is.” At least he was pretty sure he was getting paid for this... he’d better be getting paid for this dammit.

“Until We get the captain back, I’m in charge and you will show me the proper respect or Jeture help me, I will drag you out into the training square and beat you like a set of pells until you can’t tell up from down.

“You are free to walk whenever you want and if you are so much as late for a single lesson, I will consider you to have done so. You will train when I tell you to train. You will eat when I tell you to eat and you will study what I tell you to study. If you don’t like that, there’s the door.

“If you backtalk me, challenge me or give me any sort of crap, I will make it my eternal goal to make your life a living hell.

“Remember, you’re not forced to be here. In fact, I will make it a point to remind you of that every day and no doubt the nobles training alongside you will do everything in their power to convince you to leave.

“In return, if you swallow that damn over inflated pride of yours, I will teach you what I know and get you ready for the captain’s return, because I can guarantee you that the instant he walks through the palace gates, he will be demanding to see his students. If you’re not up to his expectations, it won’t matter what deal we’ve cooked up with your father, he will kick you out so hard your ass will hurt for a week. If you give him and ounce of the disrespect you’ve shown me so far, he won’t yell at you, he won’t kick you out or teach you manners, he will simply kill you where you stand. If you don’t believe me, ask around.

“That being said, if you work hard, show that you’re willing to learn, to work with the rest of the team and most importantly, accept him as your leader, he’ll move the mountains themselves to ensure that you become one of the best guymelef pilots on the face of Gaea. I’ve fought against his men in the past and I can tell you that it was a bloody nightmare in every way shape and form.

“I can also guarantee you that the captain won’t give two shits about you being beast kin. He’s worked and trained with them in the past. All he cares about is your skill and your loyalty. Prove that you have both and you’ll have the most dedicated and capable leader you could ever dream of.

“Now, ask your questions.”

There was silence for a whole minute. Gaddes knew because he counted each second of stunned silence gleefully, savouring his position of authority. During the course of his monologue, those narrow golden eyes had lost a good deal of their arrogance and had grown marginally wider with each passing moment until by the time he’d come to his rather satisfying end, they were as wide as saucers. It was a safe bet that no one had ever given this kid such a thorough dressing down before in his life.

It was too bad really, kids like this needed to be reminded that they were not the most important person on Gaea, especially if they ever wanted to make something of themselves beyond a shallow grave. This kid could very well be a wellspring of potential, he only hoped that he’d stripped away enough of the ego to let it show.

“Er...” Cassian licked his lips somewhat nervously, looking more than a little off balance after having such a large strip torn off of his hide. “Where will I be staying?” Well how about that! A reasonable question! Kids could be taught! Only now did he allow himself a smile, it wasn’t his usual warm and gregarious grin, but a simple subtle smile, just enough to let the kid know that he’d asked an intelligent question.

“Barracks have been set up for the potential recruits. You’ll be bunking two to a room and you’ll be responsible for making sure that your partner arrives on time for lessons as well as keeps up on their studies and training outside of official hours. If they get in trouble, so do you. The same goes for them, so if you want to not get strangled in your sleep, make sure you follow the rules. A servant is already bringing your bags to the room.” He pulled a small key out of his pocket and slid it across the desk. “You’ll be responsible for keeping your room clean, your weapons in top condition and your armour cared for. The sooner you get in the habit of putting your tools first, the easier a time you’ll have when the captain returns. Believe me, he’s nuts about proper upkeep.”

“Once you’re been assigned a guymelef, it’s maintenance will fall on you as well. I’m sure you’ve heard the horror stories of what happens when an Alseides unit is improperly treated. If you don’t want to die, make sure you pay attention to every lesson on it’s various functions.” He didn’t think it was possible, but the kid actually seemed to pale a little under all that fur. His large black tufted ears flattened and that tail of his puffed up to twice it’s original thickness. The effect was almost comical if Gaddes hadn’t seen first hand what happened when an Alseides decided to kill a pilot.

“The astorian nobles won’t take well to me training alongside them. The captain might not have problems with beastkin... and I’m figuring you don’t either... but most human’s are less tolerant. Will I be safe from my classmates and my future roommate?”

Gaddes really wanted to say yes and offer the kid the illusion of protection, but that would be profoundly stupid and only result in him getting hurt, likely rather badly. Instead, he sat back and studied Cassian for a long moment, choosing his words carefully.

“They won’t be happy, and I’m sure you’ve probably dealt with how dangerous humans can be when they get riled. I will stop any overt bullying I see but I will warn you that this isn’t a fool proof solution. They’re Astorian nobles; notoriously thin skinned and vindictive. They gave the captain a hard time too though he at least had done more than enough to deserve it.”

“How did he get them to stop?” Gaddes almost grinned despite himself but quickly stopped the expression before it served as an encouragement for similar behaviour.

“He sent several of them to the medics. One is now crippled for life. I don’t recommend you try this route. The Captain is of noble blood and despite his bad reputation, he has the full support of the crown. You are here on his future good will. If you so much as scratch one of the nobles outside of sparring practice, they’ll likely haul you away in chains and your hopes of joining the nobility will be forever crushed.

“I don’t care about becoming a noble. That’s my fathers goal. I just want to fight in a guymelef.” Yeah, Dilandau was going to love this kid. Hopefully he was good with a sword or it would break the brats little psychotic heart.

“That’s a point in your favour then.” This time Gaddes allowed himself a wider smile. “A noble title won’t make you any better than the guy trying to drive a sword through your guts, but trying to get some of the men to believe that is a fools errand. The Captain doesn’t care about titles or fancy names. Show him respect and he’ll do the same for you. Push his patience and he’ll send you to the infirmary in pieces.” Maybe he was laying it on a little thick with the warnings of dire injury from his superior, but really, forewarned was forearmed, and he really didn’t want to explain to the kids dad that his son was now minced meat. Allen would be so proud of his burgeoning diplomatic skills.

“So then, who will be my partner?” The kid finally asked, likely more concerned with this than any of the other questions he’d asked so far. After all, if his partner had it in for him from the get go, he was pretty much screwed before he’d even started.

Leaning back a little more, Gaddes looked over at the door to his office.

“Regis! Get in here!” He hollered, belatedly realizing that that likely wasn’t the best way to invite someone in. Still, it worked and moments later, the door opened and the strawberry haired zaibach noble stepped in, an amused smile on his lips.

“You bellowed sir?” Everyone was a smart ass.

“Yah, meet your new partner, Cassian.” He motioned to the cat boy and took some amusement at the various expressions which crossed the normally well controlled features of the youth. Shock, outrage, confusion, and then finally wry amusement. Yeah, the kid understood why they’d been partnered together well enough. Among the astorian nobles, these two were outcasts. The Zaibachi noble and the beast kin. No self respecting high born would want to be associated with such ill company and he knew for a fact that Regis had been on the receiving end of some less than amusing tricks and bullying. Everything from sharp rocks in his boots, his sparring armour damaged and being tripped during their morning runs more often than could be counted.

The fact that Dilandau had so openly singled him out during their first lesson likely hadn’t helped him at all, nor had the fact that he’d clearly earned the captain’s favour. Now he was compounding that by meeting with Allen and the rest of them several times since the kidnapping, lending what aid and information he could. His classmates had openly accused him of sucking up for favours, as well as other less savoury activities and they’d made their displeasure abundantly known. Up until now, he’d been staying in his personal rooms in the ambassadors wing of the castle, but Gaddes had been wanting him living with the rest of the recruits. Living separately in sumptuous quarters wasn’t helping his popularity either, but he hadn’t trusted any of the others well enough to room him with a partner. Now at least the two could watch each others backs.

With luck, both would still be alive when Dilandau returned. With a miracle, they’d be ready to start in on his no doubt gruelling curriculum.

“You’re not Astorian.” Cassian stated suddenly, fixing Regis with a rather suspicious look. “Your accent is... Zaibachi?” Unashamed of his nationality, the strawberry haired teenager nodded his head, lifting his chin slightly in pride.

“My father is the Zaibach ambassador. Will that be a problem?” There was a clear note of challenge in his voice as he all but dared the cat to say something disparaging about his country. Gaddes could actually see the beastkin calculating what path to take with this newcomer, weighing the worth of a dubiously positioned ally versus another enemy among many. Hopefully the kid was smart enough to see the potential here seeing as how the captain himself was Zaibachi... no matter what the damn king said.

“Will you have a problem sharing a room with a beast kin?” Cassian asked in response, his tone carefully neutral even as his body began to relax slightly.

The two teenagers eyed each other openly, neither perfectly comfortable with the other. Zaibach had a pretty bad reputation as far as attempts at conquering the world in a bloody vicious war was concerned, but they also weren’t the most welcoming in regards to the beastkin. While Regis had treated Merle with somewhat distant politeness, likely trying to follow Dilandau’s example, he still had those ingrained prejudices.

“Two social outcasts stuffed together.” Regis chuckled after a long moment, his expression softening. Gaddes wasn’t sure if it was his better nature rearing his head, or a more cunning plan to use this as a way of further ingratiating himself with the captain, but right now, he didn’t care, so long as they got along.

“I watch your back, you watch mine?”

“Not many people would trust a Zaibachi noble at their back.”

“Well, the captain is a Zaibach warlord, so I suppose it’s sort of a requirement for the job right?” That earned Cassian a smile from the other teen and Gaddes privately let out a deep sigh of relief. Flawless victory.

“You’ll show him the ropes, the daily routine and get him caught up on the lessons he’s already missed. Cassian has already had some formal training so with Jeture’s blessing, he shouldn’t be too far behind.” That seemed to make the cat bristle and that previously banked arrogance roared back to life with a vengeance.

“I’m perfectly capable with a blade and was trained by Master Yagoshi Saya.” Oh Jeture bless Regis because the zaibachi youth simply looked at him blankly, hardly impressed in the least.

“Never heard of him. What style does he teach?” Oh... yeah, Gaddes hadn’t thought to ask that. In his defence though, he really only knew one style, the “Pointy end goes into guy trying to kill you” style. So far it had worked rather well for him, so he saw no reason to switch schools this late in life.

“Florentian technique, with some Anju thrown in for close spaces.” Cassian stated proudly, his tail once again lashing back and forth aggressively. Gaddes had no idea what either of those terms were but they seemed to mean something to Regis who nodded his head thoughtfully. Rather than expose his ignorance, he simply grunted neutrally, letting the kids take that however they wanted. Bluffing, he was a friggin master at it.

“Lord Dilandau fights in the Chagara style, as well as Zendu and Anju. Florentian doesn’t translate well with Asleides combat, there’s too many superfluous moves.” The two kids seemed to follow each others conversation so Gaddes chose to let them chat, plastering a knowing look on his face as he sat back in his chair and gave himself a pat on the back for his wonderfully neat solution to a potentially sticky problem.

“I thought that Zendu was the main style of combat for Zaibach. Why would he learn Chagara?” This time Regis grinned, looking truly interested in the conversation. What the hell was it with teenagers and combat? He clearly needed to meet different kids. No, forget that, he knew enough of them.

“He’s actually written several treatises on it, but he’s found that it translates rather smoothly to alseides combat and was working with General Adelphos and General Helios to get them implemented as part of standard pilot training. Of course, he’s added his own personal flourishes, taking advantage of flight capabilities and the heightened manoeuvrability of the newer models. I’ve seen demonstration fights at the Fortunam Magnam festivals at the Capital and he’s incredible with it! The way he shifts between air and land combat is so smooth, it’s impossible for opponents to keep up with him.

“When the entire squad is in combat, you can’t keep track of them at all! They flow around each other like water, striking from all directions!”

“Yeah... it’s truly magical to see.” Gaddes couldn’t quite keep the sarcastic edge from his voice as he remembered all the times he’d seen the Dragonslayers fight... from the opposing side. While in hindsight, he could admit that they were honestly incredible to watch, at the time it had been like watching a natural disaster unfolding all around him. Unstoppable, unrelenting and utterly without mercy. The maniacal laughter hadn’t helped either.

He really should have kept his mouth shut because both of them caught his tone of voice and Cassian’s ears perked up in a way he really didn’t like.

“Yeah, you mentioned fighting against him in the war. Did you ever fight him personally? What was it like?” Aaaand we were just diving into the horribly personal questions right off the bat. Well, he was in a generous mood and enjoying his victory, he could indulge the little rug rats a little.

“I never fought him personally, though I was in the Crusade once with him and Sir Allen duelling on the roof while his squad of maniacs tore the ship apart around us. It was not a place I ever wanted to be ever again in my life.” He shuddered at the memory of seeing those vicious crima blades slashing past, inches from the bridge window. Even while standing on a moving airborne platform, the kid had managed to perform the most stunning attacks he’d ever seen. Even Allen had been hard pressed to hold him off. If it hadn’t been for Van deciding to lead the Dragonslayers away, the war could very well have ended right there and then.

“Lord Dilandau is terrifying enough to face across a sparring ring.” He stated after a moment to gather himself. “You don’t ever want to cross blades with him for real. He’s vicious, brilliant and utterly ruthless. Only two men have survived battle with him. King Van Fanel, and Sir Allen Schezar.”

“And it’s true that King Van was the one who scarred his face?” This time Regis had the good sense to stiffen and give Cassian a warning look.

“Don’t ever mention the scar to him. Seriously... There were stories all through the four Demon Armies of what he did to soldiers who did... it wasn’t anything you want to hear.” And of course, the cat looked more interested than scared, proving that he didn’t have a lick of common sense. Well, he should get along well with the rest of the group then. Wonderful. At this rate the captain would likely adopt him within a day. All they needed was a dash of pyromania and he’d be perfect.

“Got it, don’t mention the scar... but did King Van really do it?”

“Yes, he did, and because of that, Dilandau hunted Van across the face of Gaea, slaughtering anyone who got between them.” Gaddes gave the two teenagers a dark look. “So don’t give him an excuse to go on another rampage.” With that said, the sergeant stood up, making the move look rather authoritative if he did say so himself. “Now I have a meeting with Sir Allen and Heir Dryden. Regis, if you would take your new partner to the barracks and help him get settled? Go over the day’s itinerary with him and I expect you both ready for afternoon practice.”

Surprisingly, the two teenagers nodded and Cassian even gave him a polite bob of his head. Maybe verbally flaying the kid had actually worked to drill some respect into him! Jeture be praised!

“Did you need me for the meeting?” Regis couldn’t quite resist asking, his pale grey eyes openly begging for information on his beloved war hero. It would be almost adorable if it wasn’t Dilandau who was at the heart of this kid’s fantasies. Despite their many problems, Gaddes still couldn’t quite get over his feelings for the fiery albino, and he missed him horribly. It felt like something vital had been sucked out of his life in his absence.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll inform you if there’s any changes.” He stated, motioning for the boys to leave so he could take a moment to gather his thoughts before dealing with a rather stressed out Allen.

Thankfully, the two of them accepted the dismissal for what it was and headed out. Gaddes took five minutes to just sit there in silence with his eyes closed and his head tipped back. He really hoped he was doing the right thing by continuing the training plan Dilandau had set forth before going missing. The kid didn’t seem the type to consider abduction to be a valid excuse for laziness and he really didn’t want to give the brat any further reason to be angry with him. Jeture knew, he already had more than enough.

Those pain filled crimson eyes still haunted him constantly and he could always hear that broken voice begging him for acceptance, for just a shred of the love he’d so recently vowed. He really thought that he’d been doing the right thing, that a clean quick break was the healthiest choice... but in hindsight he was beginning to doubt the wisdom behind his decision. After every hellish revelation about the kid’s past, he’d needed someone to hold onto, something stable to remind him that life was still worth living, and Gaddes had denied him that. He’d been too freaked out over what he’d learned, about the abuse, the torture and as much as he loathed to even think about it, the mental conditioning.

It had made him doubt every word that had come out of Dilandau’s mouth, every caress and look of desire. He hadn’t known if the kid had honestly felt that, or had been driven to it by those sick sorcererous bastards. Their relationship looks questionable enough to the world at large. He was nearly ten years older than Dilandau, the best friend of his brother and was the closest thing the kid had to a guardian and protector aside from Allen. To know that he could control every thought and action of his partner, that the kid was programmed to want him, to obey him... it made him feel sleazy, as if he was taking advantage of the youth.

He should have broken it off slowly, weaned Dilandau off of him or found some way of blocking those damn compulsions. Instead, he’d driven the boy away and into the arms of their enemies and Jeture help him, he really wasn’t sure if Dilandau had gone willingly or not.

Wherever he was, he was alone. Even if Van was with him, the shared animosity between the two teenagers was the stuff of legends, and now Van had been armed with the best ammunition to utterly destroy his nemesis. Even in a best case scenario, Gaddes couldn’t imagine getting the same Dilandau back as he’d had before. He’d screwed up worse than previously considered possible, and now he had to go speak to Allen, act as if he had hope that things would work out. That when they got the two teens back, they’d be able to continue on as they had before.

“Jeture... Hear my prayer.” He wasn’t an overly religious man, and he knew that Dilandau would openly laugh at him over the idea of believing in a higher power, but if there was even a slim chance of the dragon god hearing him, he’d take it. “Please keep him safe and whole. Let us get them both back with something of themselves intact. They’ve both been through so much... too much for kids their age. Give them this much, please.”

It wasn’t much, but a bit of the overbearing weight pressing down on him seemed to ease a little, giving him the strength to continue on with the rest of the day.

 

 

 

Every step was a new level of agony, but he wasn’t allowed to stop or move at a slower pace. Instead, it was one foot in front of the other, gritting his teeth in order to not make a sound and pray to any got that would listen that his hips weren’t actually broken. They certainly felt like they were, and his head spun in a rather worrisome manner, warning him of just how much blood he’d actually lost.

The air felt colder than it had before and glancing down, Van could see that his normally golden tanned skin was ashen and clammy. He was likely going into shock from the entire ordeal and while that was something easily fixed, he knew that his captors had no intention of taking any necessary steps to combat it. If he wasn’t careful, this could cause him serious damage and he highly doubted that Shroden or his cronies would care. That damn General certainly wouldn’t.

Just thinking about those men made his stomach churn with disgust. He’d never met anyone who had such little disregard for the lives of others. Gods of Gaea... those poor children.

He had to suck in deep breaths of air to keep from vomiting at the memory of those twisted creatures trapped in those pods. They couldn’t even be called human anymore and he desperately prayed that their minds had been as destroyed as their bodies. Nothing should be forced to live like that... as that. Those were sights which were forever seared into his brain and he knew that he wasn’t going to sleep a wink tonight despite their orders to rest.

Had Dilandau somehow managed to kill them? Was that what he’d seen in the garden in the albino’s head? All those beautiful flowers, withered and destroyed... the life sucked out of them. But had it been out of pique, or the desire to spare them the horror he knew they were being subjected to? And what was that one flower? The pure and perfect blending that he said he’d done for Van? Shroden had mentioned that one of the test subjects had fused perfectly... was that Dilandau’s doing? Was it simply some strange and cruel coincidence? Was he now responsible for the life of a tortured child because he’d convinced Dilandau to make an act of mercy? Even then, was it truly mercy? Or were the one’s who’d been killed the lucky ones?

“If you don’t start moving faster, the guards will shock you.” Dilandau snapped at him in irritation, striding past Van but refraining from offering any aid. The albino’s skin was almost grey and dark circles hollowed out his eyes, but he moved with his usual casual grace, as if they were enjoying nothing more than a walk around the park. “All you did was lose a bit of blood and marrow. The sooner you get your ass back to the cell, the sooner you can wash, eat and rest.” There was no mistaking the slightly disdainful sneer curling the edge of his lips and Van felt the familiar desire to punch his rival in the face.

One of the guards grunted something vaguely threatening sounding and gave him a slight shove in the back with the shock staff. It didn’t zap him which was a relief, but the warning was there. Pick up speed or suffer.

Forcing himself to move faster, Van found himself sweating even as he shivered and with every step he could feel himself growing weaker. He didn’t even bother paying attention to his surroundings was honestly surprised when he found himself suddenly inside their cell, the dragon growling at them angrily and glaring at them with its large golden eyes as if it was blaming them for their shared predicament.

Vaguely, he was aware of the cell door slamming shut and the guards moving away, but before he could focus on that, cold hands grabbed onto his arm and gave him a sharp shake.

“Hey, Focus Van.” Crimson eyes entered his field of vision, burning away some of the blackness which had begun to edge in on the edges of the world. “You need to shower and rest. Right now you’re disgusting and your stink is offending Kamata.” The strange name confused him enough to force him to focus slightly and he looked at the dragonslayer blankly. Who in Gaea’s name was Kamata? And more importantly, why should he care?

“Kamata is the dragon.” Dilandau sounded far too amused by this announcement, prompting Van to wonder just when exactly the reptile had been named. “It’s a zaibachi name. Seemed appropriate.”

“You... you named a dragon?” Even Van’s voice sounded exhausted and he was pretty sure the only thing holding him up were those strong hands and the refusal to fall over in front of Dilandau. Still, naming a dragon was one of the strangest things he’d ever heard of, especially from a guy who liked killing the damn things for sport. “It’s not a pet.”

“It’s in the same boat we are.” The dragonslayer replied curtly, making Van wonder if he’d somehow managed to annoy the prickly teenager with the question. “They treat him like a thing... the same way we do. If we see him as nothing more than that, does that make us any different than our torturers?”

The king blinked in stupefied surprise at that strange and humanizing gesture, hardly expecting it from someone who took such gleeful delight in his cruel nature. It made sense in it’s own way he supposed. Naming the dragon made it seem like they weren’t as alone anymore, like they had an ally in the beast. Granted, the dragon in question didn’t seem to care one way or another.

“What’s it mean?” Knowing Dilandau, there would be some deep meaning behind it, maybe to remind him of his internal rebellion, or give them hope to continue on. Damn Van really wished his Zaibachi was a little better than it was.

“It means moron.” The smug reply made the king roll his eyes a little, not a wise action since it made the room spin rather alarmingly, but still, he couldn’t quite resist snickering. So much for grand in depth meanings.

“Moron.”

“It seemed to fit and he clearly likes it. Isn’t that right Kamata?” The dragon threw itself against the bars of it’s cage, claws swiping at them aggressively. “See?” Yeah, Van wasn’t even going to try to argue that one. If it made the slayer happy, then he really didn’t care what the lizard was named.

“Kamata it is.” Though privately he wished for something just a tad more dignified for the most majestic creature on Gaea.

“Now then, you’re obviously suffering from minor shock, and while I’d prefer that you stay warm and dry, I’m worried that you’re going to get something in all those nice deep holes decorating your body, so we’ll wash first, then I’ll warm you up. Think you can stand for a little longer?”

Numbly, Van nodded his head his attention already beginning to fade again. Dimly, he was aware of his clothes being removed with cool professional movements. Alarm bells seemed to ring in the depths of his mind, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to focus enough to care and in what seemed like moments, he was standing there shivering as a lukewarm stream of water poured over him.

A strong calloused hand rubbed the water over his skin, washing away dirt, sweat and the strange chemical stink which seemed to have sunk into his pores. Again, he felt worried and uncomfortable with the strange touches. No one had ever laid hands on him like this before and he struggled to push them away with a loud moan.

“I’m almost done, just relax and then we’ll get you dried and on the bed alright? Believe me Van, I’m not enjoying this anymore than you are and I’m really hoping you don’t remember this at all.” Dilandau looked at him sternly, his face a perfect mask of utter irritation, though Van could clearly see the concern in his eyes.

“Why?” He murmured, sagging drunkenly against the bars of the cage when Dilandau finally gently released him in order to give himself a quick wash. “Why do you care?”

The dragonslayer gave him an odd look as he quickly ran his fingers roughly through his hair, shaking out excess water and leaving it to curl in silvery white waves, like sea foam before reaching over and doing the same for Van. The rough touch helped wake him up a little and he quickly batted the hands away, intent on doing the job himself. Unfortunately, within only a few passes of his hands through his hair, he was gasping for breath and struggling to stay upright as his vision threatened to darken once more. He’d never felt so weak before in his life! Worse, he vaguely recalled the sorcerer warning that tomorrow’s procedure would be even harder on his body. How was he ever going to survive this?

Sighing softly in irritation, Dilandau once again reached out, shaking the king’s dark locks free of water as gently as possible before picking up a dry piece of cloth and rubbing it vigorously over Van’s body. Confused as to when they’d been given towels, he looked down and realized that the dragonslayer was drying him off with what looked like their clothes... or specifically, Dilandau’s clothes since the king could now see far more pale alabaster skin than he’d ever dared to imagine.

Dimly, he reasoned that of course Dilandau would be naked, he’d just been in the shower with Van washing him. This was of course quickly followed by the realization that Dilandau had just showered with him! Naked! This was by far the most profoundly terrifying and embarrassing moment in his life and he honestly had no idea how to deal with it.

“What in the name of Gaea’s gods are you doing!?” He gasped out in horror, earning himself an amused smirk from the lovely youth who was at this moment crouched down at his feet, rubbing his thighs rather vigorously.

“I thought it was obvious.” Dilandau stated, raising a pale silvery eyebrow, his smile teasing and surprisingly warm. “You need to be kept warm or you’ll go into deeper shock. Really, I shouldn’t have gotten you wet, but torture clearly doesn’t agree with you and I figured you’d thank me in the long run. That does mean though that I need to make sure you’re rather thoroughly dry or you’ll end up in worse shape.”

“Why are you using your clothes!? You’re naked!”

“Because I intend to get you dressed back in your clothes once you’re dry again you idiot.” The pale youth explained in mild exasperation. “Are you trying to push yourself into hypothermia on top of everything else? Now stand still and let me finish you off, then we’ll get you dressed.” His hands continued to move as he spoke, moving higher up along Van’s thighs until they were rapidly reaching an area that truly made every alarm in his had shriek.

What was worse was that the combination of seeing the beautiful youth kneeling at his feet, sleek muscles moving smoothly beneath that exotically pale flesh, the warmth of his touch sliding across sensitive skin and the sheer proximity of those slender strong fingers seemed to be awakening far more than Van’s awareness and much to his chagrin, he could feel a dull throbbing begin in his groin as it began to perk up with interest.

Yelping loudly in shock, Van pushed Dilandau away and quickly snatched the now damp piece of cloth from his hands as the zaibach youth caught himself from falling over.

“I can handle that on my own!” He blurted out, his voice sounding more than a little strained. For a moment, Dilandau glared at him, clearly offended at having his offer of aid so openly rebuked, then he noticed Van’s strategic placement of the cloth over his groin. A rather lazy smile spread across the pale youths face and he allowed himself a faint chuckle.

“I’m sure you can.” He replied, sitting there on the floor for a moment, openly staring at the rapidly blushing king. “You know, I could take care of that little problem for you.” It was an utter bluff seeing as how he could barely stand without swaying despite how well he hid it. Years of practice had taught him to how to function with the illusion of normalicy even when he was barely conscious or able to move.

Still, it was totally worth it to see Van take several skittish steps backwards, desperate to protect his precious chastity. Honestly, it was adorable and he couldn’t quite resist an indulgent chuckle at finding yet another way to get under Van’s skin.

Granted, he couldn’t push him too far. The king obviously wasn’t able to tough it out as well as he could and it didn’t look like the poor dear’s heart was going to handle much more strain. Still, it was nice to see that he had such a profound effect on the other youth. There had been more than a shadow of interest lurking in his rival, even if the other youth likely hadn’t recognized it as such.

His innocence was staggering. Dilandau was rapidly becoming convinced that Van Fanel was possibly one of the most sexually repressed people on the face of Gaea. Considering that Folken was his brother, that made him wonder if there might in fact be something deeply flawed in the Fanelian royal family. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to have transferred over during his own creation.

Of course, sexual repression aside, there really wasn’t much point in pursuing physical amusement with the young king. Dilandau disgusted him on more levels than either of them could count, but at least Van was honest about it. That and he’d hated Dilandau long before he learned about his abhorrent history.

Sweet fate, he truly was pathetic if that had suddenly become a point in someone’s favour. He hadn’t always been this ... needy. This must be something dredged up by the Madoushi, some stupid little manipulation to keep him on his knees and begging for more from them. Disgusting bastards.

Idly, he wondered why he was even helping Van. It’s not like they were friends. If either of them had any choice in the matter, they likely would have happily gone to opposite sides of Gaea and never crossed the path of the other again. Yet here he was, washing the man who’d murdered his friends... who’d scarred his face and stolen his beauty.

Odd, for some reason, he didn’t feel that familiar sense of rage when he thought about the old injury. No, that wasn’t acceptable! He wanted his rage, he needed it and now Van had somehow stolen that from him as well!

This was either the fault of the runt king, or that irritating brain flea of a “sibling” messing with him! Damn them both!

“Are you alright?” Van asked, finally managing to get control over his voice, making Dilandau almost miss the awkward squeak he’s been speaking with moments ago. “You look angry.”

There really was no way to explain that he was mad because he wasn’t angry, so he didn’t even try. Instead, he slowly stood back up, taking care not to move too quickly seeing as his own body was working on fumes and he wanted nothing more than to pass out for a few hours. Not that he was going to let Van see that.

Instead, he waved away the darker youth’s concern, leaned against the bars and took a moment to center himself, making a point to still be close enough to Van to catch him if he did indeed fall over. The king looked to be on his last legs and he was sure that help would be required in order for him to reach the bed.

There were some rather amusing moments of watching Van struggling to dry himself as modestly as possible by keeping as much of his precious anatomy covered despite the obvious limitations of the shirt he was using as a cloth. Honestly, did he think that Dilandau had never seen a cock before? Nudity had never bothered him one way or another, nor had the various acts one often indulged in while unclothed, but clearly this wasn’t the case for the king. Damn repressed Fanelians, though he did have to admit, it was amusing to try to catch a glimpse of the illicit anatomy, making Van blush a deeper and darker red with every passing minute. Honestly, he was going to pass out if he kept this up. There simply wasn’t enough blood in his system to support a full body blush.

Deciding that he should perhaps stop ogling the other teen and give him a chance to get dressed in peace, Dilandau grabbed his pants and used them to dry his own body. His irritation was renewed at the realization of just how weak he himself was after the vile procedure. The simple act of rubbing the rough cloth over his body made his arms tremble slightly and the room seemed to float around him in a somewhat worrisome manner.

Worse was the awareness of new holes in his already frayed memory. The last few hours were little more than a foggy blur, images floating into view for a moment only to disappear the moment he tried to focus on them. They were disjointed and without context to explain them.

Vaguely, he recalled the amphitheatre lab and the cold metal table. Shroden’s face floated through his mind followed by memories of being touched by him, hearing whispered promises as lewd as they were both loathed and desired. Flashes of liquid fire eating it’s way through his veins, melting him with caustic power as his life was torn from him. Nothing lasted for more than a moment and he knew that even these snippets would soon be forgotten if he wasn’t careful.

Most confusing was the surreal impression of... flowers and a strange sense of victory, but he was rather sure that was nothing more than either a hallucination, or more likely, Celena trying to comfort him. Honestly, as if he could give two shits about flowers. One day she was going to realize that he didn’t like the same things she did, that he wasn’t weak and vulnerable the way she was.

The whole experience left him feeling restless and unsettled. There was the nearly overwhelming sense that something was wrong, incomplete even. As much as he wanted to simply bask in Van’s social discomfort, he couldn’t shed the nervousness which left him glancing around constantly, as if he was expecting to be punished at any moment.

“How are you holding up after all that?” The king asked, actually managing to sound concerned despite his obvious exhaustion. Glancing over, Dilandau saw that he was once again leaning heavily on the bars of their cell, his breathing was rapid and shallow while his skin still looked far paler than it should. Yeah, focus on Van, keep Van healthy and safe so that he wouldn’t be left alone... that would help keep his internal demons at bay. That meant convincing him that everything was fine, that he was fine and that somewhere in this endless nightmare there was hope. Ugh, he sucked at lying.

“Yeah... something doesn’t feel right though.” He found himself muttering softly as he reached over and grabbed Van’s shirt from where he’d hung it on the bars. Motioning the king closer, he quickly helped get him dressed, making sure Van held onto one of the cell bars at all times rather than risk him falling over. “What happened in the lab? Did everything go alright? Was Ma- Shroden angry about something?” The shirt slipped on without difficulty but Van made it abundantly clear that he was going to put his pants on by himself. Normally, Dilandau would have teased him mercilessly over his modesty, but his heart just wasn’t in it anymore. That sense of disquiet continued to bother him.

“You... don’t remember?” Honestly, did Van have to sound so shocked by this? He had already been told that Dilandau’s memory was faulty at the best of times.

“Obviously not if I’m asking you.” Hanging his now soaking wet clothes on the bars to dry, utterly unconcerned with his own nudity, Dilandau slung one of Van’s arms over his shoulder and helped the king shuffle over to the cot before gently helping him down onto it. His motions were careful and filled with far more concern than anyone would ever give him credit for, but really, Van was all he had right now and he wasn’t about to risk the fanelian brat’s fragile health.

Surprisingly, Van didn’t protest, though he did tense rather impressively when Dilandau crawled onto the thin mattress next to him and pulled him close.

“Relax.” He ordered with firm gentleness. “You need to warm up, and seeing as how they’re not going to give us a blanket, You’ll have to settle for body warmth.” Dark brown eyes stared into his, radiating a level of nervousness that only an utter virgin could manage. He should know, he’d bedded enough of them. “I’m not about to steal away your virtue. I hate you remember?” As he spoke, he settled himself rather intimately around the other youth, feeling just how dangerously cool the others skin really was. Still, there was no need to worry him with things they couldn’t change. What Van needed was rest and warmth, so he hoped that continuing talking would help settle him down and convince the king of his pure intentions.

“Now tell me what happened?” Perhaps it wasn’t the best topic of conversation, but what else was there to discuss? It’s hardly as if they were bosom buddies or anything.

He’d expected Van to brush off the question with some brash vague answer or to act utterly unaffected by what he’d likely endured. Instead, he saw something shatter in the depths of the king’s eyes and his skin grew even paler still.

Honestly concerned now, Dilandau pulled him a little closer, hoping that his own body heat would help reverse the obvious deterioration of his companion who was now shivering violently against him.

To his surprise, Van actually curled against his body, strong solid hands gripping onto him as if he was some sort of anchor as the young king buried his face in Dilandau’s chest. Whatever stern and aloof pride usually kept the king going through thick and thin finally failed him as the unending horrors of this place finally broke over him. The dragonslayer was positive that he could hear soft sobs rising up from him and the way his shoulders jerked warned him that yes, the king was crying.

Why did people keep thinking that they could cry on him? It was disgusting, unhygienic and really, he was about the least sympathetic person on the damn planet! Still, he didn’t push the king away or even mock him for his obvious show of weakness. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the trembling form and in response to vague memories of receiving similar comfort, began to run his fingers through damp dark locks of hair.

“They... they killed them!” Van blurted out, his fingers tightening until they were leaving bruises on the dragonslayer's pale skin. “They used my blood to do it!  I... I turned them into monsters!"  He swallowed loudly and DIlandau did his best to pretend that he likely wasn't getting covered in snot and other disgusting bodily fluids.  Despite the emotional turmoil he was suffering, Van continued to speak, his words slurred and garbled by tears, but still intelligible... more or less.  "The test subjects... they were tied together in pairs... and they made them into one... or tried to. They were... oh gods of gaea... they’d melted together... bones, skin... everything. Some of them were still alive! They were trying to scream, but couldn’t... all they could do was suffer and that bastard Shroden didn’t care! Neither did the General! They were disappointed that only two were going to make it... They’d blended smoothly or something. One.. one was perfect, the other... they were waiting to study.” He sobbed out his horror, not caring that tears were running out of his eyes unhindered or that his throat hitched with every breath.

The warmth of the other youth’s body helped, as did the arms around him which were strong and comforting, promising protection and shared strength in this nightmare. Van drank in the strangely comforting scent of crima metal and fire which seemed to permeate the pale teen, wondering when it had become something soothing rather than mindnumbingly terrifying.

It was the fingers though which helped ground him, soothe away the worst of his torments as they stroked through his hair over and over again, gently massaging his scalp and relaxing him despite his terror. No one had ever held him like this... not since his mother had vanished, and he cherished the touch, doing his best to focus on it rather than the screams frozen on the tortured faces of those children.

“You’ll see more of them I’m afraid.” Dilandau murmured gently, his voice as soft as his touch as it flowed over the fanelian king like a lullaby. “They’ll bring in a new batch tomorrow... more children, more suffering. Those that die, or are too twisted to survive will be dissected and studied. Some of their organs will even be put into the new subjects... I see they’ve already taken a few biopsies from you.”

“You really suck at comforting conversation, you know that right?” Van murmured, sniffing loudly though he refused to relinquish his death grip on the dragonslayer.

“I blame it on my upbringing.” Dilandau replied, hardly taking offence to the blatantly true statement. “So one was perfect.” He felt a sort of thrill at the words though he couldn’t say why. Still, it felt like he’d won a victory of some sort.

“The general wanted more... he accused Shroden of being distracted by you... he... he saw the sorcerer pawing at you and I think he realized what that freak was about to do to you... he said... well he said a lot of disgusting things, but in the end, he said he’d punish Shroden for his failure and that you were to come back to the cell with me.”

“Oh...” Dilandau frowned slightly, one part of his mind revelling in the knowledge that for one night at least, he’d been spared the indignity of being bedded and used by his “Master” while another part screamed at being denied his touch. He’d done his part dammit! He’d complied with their demands, he’d behaved and not fought as they’d performed their experiments! He ached for his reward! No wonder he felt out of sorts, knowing that his “Master” was so close, but bereft of his touches. Still, holding Van like this helped. Skin on skin contact, feeling warm breath sliding across his neck and chest, feeling those strong fingers grip at him so tightly... he could be satisfied with this. In a way, this was even better because it spared him his dignity and for once, his mind wasn’t at war with itself.

“Thank you.” He murmured softly, figuring that Van would likely think he was being thanked for sharing the information with him rather than for his touch. It was hard to tell who was holding more tightly onto whom as the two youth’s tried to lose themselves in their shared closeness, drawing what warmth and protection they could from each other for as long as their captors allowed.

“Thanks... for not making fun of me.” Van replied, tears still falling from his eyes though his sobbing had stopped. Smiling slightly, Dilandau gave the king a gentle squeeze.

“There’s no point. Us demons have to stick together against the monsters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo Merle might find a purpose beyond whining, bitching and yelling out "Vaaaaan-sama!!" really, she has so much damn potential that it hurts to see her so untapped. So then, get ready for more Merle action!! And no, she will NOT be hooking up with Cassian. I don't really plan on the two getting along much at all.  
> I actually totally rewrote the section with Gaddes and Cassian as in the original version, Gaddes came off as pretty submissive, whiny and spineless, which really went against how he's been portrayed so far in this story and not the sort of person Dilandau would have give a second thought towards. So I gave him a shiny new spine and he seemed to do much better!  
> It was fun to finally have Dilandau offer a bit of comfort, as awkward and filled with fail as it was. At least he tried. Poor Van, yeah, he's had a pretty shitty time of it.
> 
> Next chapter!: Not everything is as it seems


	7. Dream a Little Dream With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van and Dilandau find themselves in each other's dreams, living snippets of each other's lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY NaNoWriMo! Let's kick some ass with this this year!  
> It's been an overall crappy week. Two months ago I left a job I'd been in for ten years to try out a smaller and more personable company... on friday the owner laid me off because they weren't making enough profits... woot, what fun! Nothing like throwing away financial security! So begins my amazing adventure with job hunting and a mortgage!
> 
> Anyway, I don't own Vision of Escaflowne, the characters or anything really. Take pity on me!!!

“Stay under your cloaks and keep the formation tight.” Van smiled as he studied the vast array of softly glowing lights which surrounded him, feeling more comfortable in the hot enclosed space of the piloting chamber than he did outside of it’s confines. A screen off to the side showed a topographical map of the location, his squad slowly closing in around their unsuspecting targets in a neat circle. Each unit was presented as a blue dot flanked by quick notations in regards to their units efficiency, power levels and the state of the pilot.

All of them were tense and angry. He could see it in their movements, their positioning and especially over the coms. There was none of the usual playful banter which he pretended to ignore as they set up into position. Instead, only grim silence hung between them. No one dared to break the heavy quiet save to give only the most vital information. That was to be expected really. Today’s mission was different than anything they’d previously done. Those had been their jobs as soldiers of Zaibach. This... this was revenge.

Just the thought of it made his fingers clench slightly against his guymelef controls and he had to consciously release his hands lest he separate the arms of his unit into lethal claws and break their stealth in a pointless threat display.

“Dallet, you’re drifting to the right, close up the hole. I don’t want any of these bastards escaping.” His voice was sharper than he’d intended as his eyes unerringly noticed one of the blue blips moving slightly out of formation.

“Yes Lord Dilandau.” The dragonslayer in question sounded properly chastised as his voice echoed over the interior speakers of the Alseides. Van barely gave it any thought that he was being addressed by the name of his rival, it seemed natural and hardly worth noting. Nothing mattered other than the target in front of him. They’d hurt one of his own, they’d injured a Dragonslayer and for that they would pay with their lives... all of their lives. He didn’t intend to let so much as an insect survive what was coming.

_Blue eyes overflowing with pain, the light behind them dulled, leaving them glassy and empty save for the overwhelming suffering. It choked the slight body kneeling at his feet, stooped once proud shoulders and caused them to shudder as sobs tore the young soldier apart._

_The earth was scorched around them, the stink of charred wood and burned bones filled the air, giving it a heavy oily taste which stuck to your skin. Normally it was a stink he revelled in, but not today. Today the injury was his. Someone had ripped the heart out of one of his men and left it laying on the charred pyre of this once picturesque village._ _Such an act could not go unanswered._

Van licked his lips in anticipation, his eyes narrowing as he sensed the nearness of the kill. He could almost taste the blood, feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, calling to him, demanding the bloodiest of slaughters.

“Everyone stay close to your partner and do mind where you’re putting your feet. It would be terrible if any of those fleas happened to get crushed underfoot.” The message was clear, there were to be no survivors. Rather than be appalled at this, Van found his lips stretching in wide smile as his fingers once again stroked across the crima controls as one might with the flesh of a lover.

His morals struggled to fight through the red haze which was already clouding his vision, urging his blood lust, but they couldn’t stand against the onslaught. One of his men had been hurt, one of his men had been nearly destroyed. they’d hurt what was his to protect! There would be no mercy, no second chances and no forgiveness. Those responsible for this act would die screaming, and each cry would be a victory banner for those now condemned to walk the paths of the dead.

A few taps of some buttons brought down a complex apparatus which hung in front of his face, blocking one eye, yet providing him with a view of their target as if he was standing just over their shoulders.

There was a fortress, somewhat larger than Fort Castillo, though constructed of stone rather than wood. Its design was old and solid, built to withstand fierce winters and siege. Three tall guymelf units stalked about the outer perimeter while smaller melef units guarded the main gates. Here and there were the smaller shapes of men in standard armour either walking patrol circuits or simply going about their business.

Within the courtyard, four more guymelef units stood at rest, presumably waiting for their pilots while a fifth one was undergoing standard maintenance by an elaborate forge.

These details were noted and dismissed as unimportant. The antique armours wouldn’t present a problem for the Zaibach Alseides. The Dragonslayers units were faster, stronger, had far superior armaments and were vastly more manoeuvrable. No, what caught his attention was the group of men laughing by one of the inner walls.

Thumbing the view switch brought the distant image into greater focus, allowing him to easily make out the distant details.

Several men stood around a large rock which had been dumped rather unceremoniously on the ground at their feet. The stone was a pale blue with rich green slashes through it and a few random flecks of glowing green energist. Someone long ago had taken it upon themselves to lovingly carve the symbols for fertility, prosperity, family and strength along it’s surface where the energist glowed it’s brightest, creating an almost ethereal light within the heart of the words. Even from as far back as they were, the sense of veneration surrounded the stone like an aura and Van knew instinctively that this was a sacred artifact.

They’d always teased Shesta about how his village had venerated the stupid rock. To them, it had been a quaint joke about how backwards some of the outer colonies were. How they still were hung up in ancient superstitions and traditions which made little sense to the more cosmopolitan team members. Only barbarians believed in gods, demons and monsters in the darkness. Citizens of Zaibach knew that only the hands of humans could change the fate of Gaea and that no amount of prayer could change what was to come. Only the Emperor had that power, and through him, the people of this great land.

_Slender fingers clenched a gaudily coloured bag woven from what looked like mismatching scraps of cloth and beads. He’d seen the bag a hundred times and each time sneered at the silly sentimentality behind it. Still, there was no denying how it brought comfort to the innocent faced youth, how his sky blue eyes always softened and became distant as if he was seeing something other than the cold steel grey walls of the floating fortress around them. Something beautiful and precious that he would never understand._

_He wanted to tear it away from the youth, to hit him and drive into him the lessons of this harsh world where sentimentality was a weakness and silly illusions like love and kindness held you back from what needed to be done. But those eyes..._

_“You’ll love my family!” Shesta had babbled happily over his comm_ _only hours ago_ _, tempting more than one slayer to block the channel just to get a moment’s peace. “Mom will dote on you and tell you that you don’t eat nearly enough and that you’re far too pale. Sorry sir, but she will, please don’t take offence, she means well and she’ll treat you like one of her own.” He hadn’t sounded the least bit sorry, in fac_ _t_ _, he sounded almost proud of this. “And Marie will follow you around with cow eyes all day, batting her lashes at you and likely convincing herself that you’ll sweep her off her feet and carry her away to the Capitol. I’ll do my best to keep her away from you and the others... um... if you could remind Dallet that she’s young and impressionable and My Sister, that would be appreciated!”_

_“Hey! I can hear you you know!”_

_“Stay away from my little sister Dallet!”_

_“_ _Depends, is she cute? I like cute girls...”_

_“Sir!!”_

_“Dallet, stay away from Shesta’s sister.” He’d sighed into the comm, wondering for the tenth time why he’d allowed himself to get sidetracked from the mission. They were due at Arkan Fort in two days and were already pushing their schedule, but Shesta had promised them fresh provisions as opposed to the dry rations they knew to expect at the Fort. That, and everyone sort of wanted to see this damn rock they’d always joked about._

 

_The sight of the burned village, the scattered bodies left broken and blackened on the ground where they’d fallen had etched itself in the brain of every Dragonslayer, but nothing could compare to the strangled cry of utter despair which had torn it’s way through Shesta’s throat at the sight of his family, they could only assume it was his family, the bodies were too ruined to identify._

_Van had never heard a sound so wretched and shattered and every protective instinct inside him had flared up like wildfire._

He stared through the scope, his eyes narrowing as he watched those men gathering around what had once been the sacred heart of Shesta’s village. They drank, they laughed, and each one took turns urinating on the relic, soiling it with their bodily waste.

Shesta was watching, they all were watching and he could hear the small blonde breathing over the com, harsh, heavy and struggling to hold back tears of outrage. These men were treating the slaughter of his village like a joke, a worthless pointless joke.

He’d never had a family, never understood the strange closeness that one person could have for another. It was an utter mystery to him how someone could mean so much to another, but he knew that this was the norm. The people who they’d spent the afternoon burying had been Shesta’s family and he’d have given his life to protect them without hesitation had he had the chance. Well, Shesta was his, and that made them his family as well right? That meant that he would do everything in his power to protect them. Failing that, he would do all he could to avenge them. They all would. They were a team, a family. The wounds of one were the wounds of all, and Shesta’s tears were theirs.

A fleeting image of a tall man with flowing hair of gold flickered in the back of his mind, a woman with eyes of the deepest blue. They blurred for a moment, becoming a tall man with pale blue hair and warm brown eyes, a woman with wings soft as a cloud and a tall dark man who radiated stern power and a fierce love. Van knew who they were, though the names refused to form in his mind, leaving them fuzzy and indistinct though radiating a staggering sense of importance. Instead, he remembered the burned bodies laying in twisted heaps.... a neat line of graves in the village center.

Again, his fingers flew over the controls of his alseides and several red warning lights flashed into view as system after system came online and began to power up. It felt good to have so much power sitting there in his hands, ready to be unleashed like a sword of judgment. His index finger gently stroked the switch which would activate the flame functions and he felt a smile tug at his lips.

Still, work before pleasure. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, and giving his flamethrower a silent promise of “soon”, he opened up a private channel to the silent blue guymelef standing beside his own.

“Anything you want to say before we begin Shesta?” The amount of concern in his voice actually surprised him. He had expected to ask the simple question and be done with it, wanting nothing more than to ensure that the soldier in question was still fit for duty. Instead, he found himself honestly wanting to alleviate the pain in the other teens heart. Even from where he stood, he could feel the weight of grief which surrounded the dragonslayer. Grief and righteous rage.

“Yes sir... thank you.” Shesta’s voice was soft, trembling with emotion, but that familiar steel still lay beneath it. It was that steely determination which had won the small slayer a position within the elite team, and Van found himself pleased that his soldier hadn’t broken from the adversity he now faced.

The private channel was switched to an open communication, allowing the slayers words to reach the entire unit which had been carefully positioned around the small fortress.

“Kanoshi Village was just a peaceful farming community.” Shesta stated in his high soft voice which still hadn’t quite shed the last vestiges of childhood. Still, there was no missing the searing passion and rage which filled it with the most beautiful fire. “They had no active part in the war, no defences and were of no grand strategic value to either our Empire nor her enemies. It’s people were simple farmers who grew enough to survive through the winter and share with their neighbours during hard times. They never preyed on those around them and always welcomed strangers with food and song. They didn’t deserve what was done to them.” Emotion threatened to choke his throat but he continued on-wards, forcing out the words which would be the eulogy for his family. “My family were good people. They loved, they laughed, they never hurt anyone.

“My mother was so proud when I was accepted into the aAademy and then the Dragonslayers. The entire village held a party for me. I was the first one to ever qualify for officer’s training. There’s even a poster of our unit in the town square, signed by each and every one of you... they said that it helped make them feel like they’d contributed something to the efforts, like they were part of something bigger.

“They’re dead now, their bodies left to the scavengers and elements as if they weren’t even people... not even human beings. They deserved better than that. They all did.

“Those men who slaughtered my village and butchered my family are down there, pissing on the Almatta stone which was the heart of Kanoshi Village. They’re pissing on my family, my heritage and my pride.

“It’s time they payed the price for their arrogance. No mercy.”

“No mercy” The words were echoed by fifteen throats as all the other comm links lit up for a moment, the Dragonslayers joined in sacred solidarity.

Van smiled at the show of unity. Not a single Dragonslayer had stayed silent and one by one, all of the units were powering up their weapons, preparing for the kill. There would be no hesitation on their part, no remorse over the loss of life. He couldn’t wait to claim revenge.

“Light em up boys.” He purred. “No survivors.”

 

 

Dilandau stood before a giant. The man was the size of a guymelef, his body rippled with muscles as hard as rock and his tanned skin was covered in a myriad of scars, each one likely bearing some great tale of battle. Still, despite his wounds and advancing age, the man moved with confidence and barely restrained power. A single glance was enough to tell the young captain that this wasn’t an adversary he should ever underestimate, in fact, he was sure that he’d have even more fun fighting him than Schezar. At least this guy wouldn’t hold back because of some stupid blood relation.

Battle clearly wasn’t on the man’s mind today. Grief surrounded him like a dark cloud and it looked as if someone had torn the very heart and soul from this walking monolith.

He should have been afraid of the giant. After all, most powerful men in his life rarely had the best of intentions at heart and as much as he loathed to admit it, he wasn’t sure he could take this walking mountain of muscle. It was strange though, instead of wariness and dread as he stared up at at this bipedal beast, he felt protected in a way he never had before. Here was someone who could stand against the world itself in order to keep him safe. Neither Madoushi, Emperor or suffocatingly overprotective brother could defeat this man and he longed to race over to him and cling to his tree trunk of a leg, never to let go.

“As much as I loathe to say it My Queen, Prince Folken is dead.” A figure shifted next to him, causing Dilandau to look up. Towering over him was a woman with long straight hair as dark as night. It brushed across his tiny hand, the strands soft as silk. Skin pale as moonlight almost glowed in the torchlight of the room and he was positive that he’d never seen a woman look so unearthly beautiful. A strange sense of timeless grace seemed to surround her and if the giant man promised protection from the world, this woman promised life itself. She shone with it and Dilandau felt his heart ache strangely in his chest as he stared up at her in wonder, unable to put this sensation into words.

He was barely even aware of the gravity of the conversation taking place around him. All that mattered was this woman, this magnificent unearthly creature who he knew without a doubt was his entire world.

“Momma?” His lips formed the words of this own volition, the voice high, childish and full of an innocence he’d never possessed. Those tanned chubby hands tugged at her beautifully draping robes with all the impatience and ignorance of a tiny child who suddenly realized that none of the adults were paying attention to him. “Momma... where’s Folken. I want Folken.”

Folken had promised to come back and said that he’d be king, just like Daddy! He wasn’t sure how Folken could be his brother AND king at the same time, but his brother was brilliant and could do anything, so he knew that any minute now, his idol would come walking in through those doors, a sad smile on his gentle face and give him a big hug. Maybe if he was lucky, he could get a few tickles too!

“Momma?” He tugged on the robes again, confused as to why his mother had made such a strange sobbing sound, or why she was sinking down to her knees. Was she hurt? What was going on? Upset now, he felt his own eyes began to water and for a moment, blind panic filled his thoughts as he waited for the inevitable punishment from his masters... only, there were no Masters here. No one could hurt him so long as this woman... his mother was there to protect him. She would wrap him in her beautiful shining wings and the world would become soft and warm.

“You can’t know that... not for sure.” His mother moaned, her heart shattering with her words even though her dark eyes flashed with defiance. “Where’s his body?!”

With his head hanging low in defeat, Balgus slowly reached over his back and pulled out a bundle wrapped in his travelling cloak. He held it out and with slow, almost reverent movements, unwrapped it.

Curious, Dilandau craned his neck, trying to see what was so important. Folken? Were they talking about that traitorous buzzard? The strange memories in his head of a shy pale youth with sad eyes far older than his years and gentle smiles didn’t match the tall morose Strategos who’s face was an expressionless mask of indifference. A man who could order the annihilation of his home country, then calmly betray the unit under his command... murder the young men under his command...

No! His young mind argued with him. Folken was wonderful, an idol of adulthood and he wanted to grow up to be just like him! He always read to him, stories of far off lands and grand adventures. They’d laugh and play together, he’d sneak into Folken’s room and curl up under his sheets on cold nights, or nights with scary storms... or when he just wanted to get hugged all night. He loved his big brother with all his heart! Of course Folken was coming back. Folken was always there for him. He couldn’t be stopped by some stupid dragon.

Dilandau watched with wide eyes as his mother reached out a hand to the now unwrapped bundle then snatched it back as if burned. With a pained cry, she fell to the floor and clutched at her chest as a sound unlike anything he’d ever heard before wrenched its way past her lips... lips which had always been smiling before.

Balgus looked down at her, his eyes filled with fathomless sorrow, then slowly, he knelt down and gently lay the bundle at her feet. It was a sword. The Sword of Fanelia... He knew that damned emblem anywhere, except for once looking at it didn’t make his cheek ache. Instead, it felt as if someone had wrapped mail gloved hands around his heart and squeezed mercilessly. Staining the golden crest and handle was dried blood... a lot of it.

“I only found this my Queen.” He said softly. “The grass around it was crushed and stained with blood. It had saturated the earth.”

“Where’s Folken!” Dilandau demanded, growing scared with how strangely the adults were acting. A small part of his mind knew the answer, understood the horrible drama about to take place in a distant country, but that voice was small and nothing more than a whisper. What mattered was that his big brother was gone and his mother was acting scary. That wasn’t acceptable and he’d just about had enough of this. “I want Folken!” He stomped his foot angrily and glared at the two adults, fully expecting them to fix this. Balgus simply bowed his head, reached out and picked up the sword with reverence, holding it out to Dilandau.

“Your Brother is no more.” He said, his voice cracking on the words. “You must now lead Fanelia as king.”

“But... Folken is king now! Mommy said so!” Didn’t these adults understand anything? “He’s gonna kill a dragon and be king!” He turned away from the sword, wanting his brother more than the precious heirloom.

“He’s not dead!” There was something in his mother’s voice which caused him to stop before his tantrum could truly gain momentum and he froze in place, staring at her. She sounded like a stranger. There was suddenly a distance between them that he couldn’t bridge and it scared him like nothing else in his young life.

Slowly rising to her feet, he could only stare as his mother, the center of his universe stared firmly at Balgus, her dark eyes burning with fanatic desperation. He could feel her trembling and tried to cling more tightly to her, realizing on some deep level that he was standing on the edge of a terrible precipice and about to fall off into a terrible and lonely place.

“My Queen, there was too much blood. He could never have survived. We must accept the inevitable and begin to prepare Van for the right of Dragonslaying. When he is of age-”

“NO!” His mother shrieked the word and as her denial reverberated through the room, the air was suddenly filled with feathers as her wings burst free. Luminous and beautiful, they never ceased to cause him to stare in wonder. He’d never seen anything as glorious as the wings of his mother and he ached for her to wrap them around him until the world made sense again.

“He’s alive and he needs me!” She yelled. “Can’t you feel it!? Threads are being pulled! The channels of fate are rippling with power and my son is still alive! His destiny still shines!” Her great wings spread out with a snap and the wind caused Dilandau to stagger back as he was blinded by a spray of feathers which swirled around the room in a small storm. “I will find him! I will bring back my son!”

There was a great rush of wind which knocked Dilandau off his feet where he lay there for a moment stunned. Blinking his eyes in confusion, he sat up, finding himself surrounded by soft shining feathers. There was no sign of his mother other than the gaping hole which suddenly yawned in his heart. The sword of Fanelia still lay at his feet, taunting him, demanding his attention... still covered in the blood of his brother.

Terrified, he reached out a small trembling hand towards the bloody hilt.

 

Van woke with a start, his heart hammering against his ribs and the stink of smoke and burning flesh still filling his nose. He wanted to feel sickened by the memory of the slaughter his dream self had led, but instead, all he felt was the lingering shadow of pride and victory. In fact, he felt rather elated by his dream actions and found that fact more than a little disturbing.

Had that really been a dream? If so, why dream that he was Dilandau? How had it been so detailed and vivid? It felt more like a memory, a deeply private one and the young king couldn’t quite get over the fierce protectiveness he’d felt towards the Dragonslayers. One of his men had been hurt and he hadn’t hesitated to unleash unholy vengeance upon the perpetrators.

As promised, nothing had survived that massacre. There’s been no mercy granted to any of the fort’s men by the dragonslayers, and once the killing had been complete, Dilandau himself had carried that sacred rock back to the village and buried it with the people who’d venerated it. It had been a strangely touching act, one which had surprised the young king, though oddly enough, not the men he’d led. Apparently there really was more to the vicious captain than anyone had guessed.

It was at this moment that Van realized that he was alone on the cot, his skin chilled by the cool air of the room, though nowhere hear the dangerous life threatening chill of last night.

Rolling over onto his back, he turned his head enough to watch the other teen quietly exercising at the far end of the cell. He stood on his hands, slender muscles as hard as steel flexing powerfully as he slowly lowered then raised himself over and over again, his body held straight up in the air, toes pointed towards the roof. Sweat shone on his alabaster skin, coloured by the faintest of blushes from his exertion, though he continued to breathe easily.

As if sensing eyes on him, he paused at the apex of his lift and shifted his weight slightly. Then, to Van’s surprise, he raised one hand in the air, holding it out at the side for balance as he began to repeat the press, this time with only the single arm to hold him.

One part of the king smirked at how much of a showoff his rival was, but the rest of him was honestly in awe of the strength and balance required for this feat. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to pull it off. Granted, he was rather sure that the chances of him ever running into a situation requiring such a flashy press would never come up in his life.

At least now Dilandau was breathing harder, proving that beneath it all, he was in fact a mere mortal and subject to fatigue. Rather than simply dropping his feet down and standing up like a normal human however, he allowed his legs to drop backwards, arching his spine into a rather sharp bridge, displaying the smooth planes of his stomach and sculpted abdomen before tightening his core to draw his upper body back into it’s proper position. Again, showing off utterly for his audience of one.

As much as he wanted to act unimpressed over this little display, he couldn’t help but smile in appreciation at the show... both of physical prowess and gigantic ego.

“How long have you been up?” Van propped himself up against the bars, refusing to wince at their cold bite against his tender skin. A quick and cautious glance at the cage next to them showed that Kamata, the newly named dragon was still asleep. The vicious beast grumbling softly as it no doubt dreamed of tearing apart annoying albino’s who continued to taunt its waking hours.

Brushing sweat dampened hair from his face, Dilandau smiled at him slightly, though there was something strained about the expression and dark circles shadowed the albino’s eyes.

“An hour, give or take.” He replied with a shrug. “They really need to invest in a clock of some sort in here, even an hourglass.”

“I thought we were supposed to rest?” Van pressed slightly, his internal clock telling him that it was still rather early in the morning. Far too early to be tiring oneself out to such a degree, especially after being warned that today would be that much more draining on them both.

To his surprise, Dilandau actually winced at his words and refused to meet his gaze. Something had clearly rattled the fierce youth, though he hadn’t woken Van up kicking and screaming, so it couldn’t have been a nightmare.

“Are you alright?” He found himself asking, only to give a somewhat abashed shrug once he realized the foolishness of the question. “You should rest. Those cloaked bastards already said that they weren’t going to make today pleasant for us. You’re going to need every bit of energy you can get. Why make their job easier?”

This time Dilandau turned away completely and began to perform some rather impressive deep stretches, deciding to avoid the uncomfortable conversation altogether. Van watched him for another moment before rolling his eyes and getting off the cot. It’s not as if he was going to be able to go back to sleep with Dilandau mucking about. He either had to get the albino calmed down, or join him in the exhausting calisthenics.

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday.” The king murmured, doing his best to keep his voice down lest the guards take offence to their wakefulness. He didn’t want another standoff like yesterday.

“Hmm?” Dilandau rolled onto his back and began to do strange looking stomach crunches, which involved him actually rolling back onto his shoulders and lifting his entire body up into the air, before slowly lowering it then raising his upper body to touch his knees. The movements were slow, graceful and filled with controlled power. Really, the king couldn’t help but be impressed... also annoyed, because conversation was clearly being avoided.

“You kept me warm, made sure I ate. I’m not even sure if I would have made it through the night without you.”

“You would have. You’re too valuable to let die, though you would have been in far rougher shape today. They want you too weak to fight them. It’s just another power game.” He sounded so calm about it all, Van had no doubt that the other teen had often been forced to walk back to his cell after a torturous “experiment” and been left alone in the cold and dark far too often. How had the other youth survived that brutality with his spirit intact or any trace of humanity in his soul? Or, right... he hadn’t. He’d been a monster without conscience or understanding of mercy. It had taken the combined efforts of fifteen determined and devoted young men to show him that there was something to the world beyond violence and pain.

“Still, thank you. I don’t imagine it was easy for you to hold me like that all afternoon and night.” This time, crimson eyes glanced over in his direction, weighing his words as if expecting an attack of some sort. Their gazes locked for nearly a minute while Dilandau continued his exercises. He could practically see the albino sorting through the various responses he could give, ranging from gracious acceptance to snide arrogance. Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised over which one eventually won out.

“Don’t fall under the illusion that I care Van.” Dilandau snapped, the familiar sneer twisting his lips, showing just the edge of his teeth. “You’re too weak and soft to survive any of this on your own and they know it.” The dragonslayer resumed his exercises with renewed vigour, bolstered by his cruel words. “Sweet fate, your answer to everything seems to be to just bow and beg for mercy. What did that ever get you?”

“It let you keep your damn eye for one!” Van shot back, incensed despite himself. He knew that Dilandau had his back up about something and was likely just defending himself the only way he knew how... by being an utter overbearing asshole. “Next time I could just sit back and let them order you to tear yourself apart. Would you like that? Or hey, I could have let those goons on the ship cut out your tongue the way they wanted to, or beat you into senselessness.” He was rapidly warming up to the idea of an argument despite knowing how utterly stupid it would be to have one now.

“Dammit Dilandau, I was just trying to thank you for helping me!” It was hard to keep his voice down, but he was managing... barely.

“I don’t want your thanks!” The dragonslayer snapped back. “Just take better care of yourself. Next time I might not be in any shape to help you. You need to remember that if you die, then the experiment is over and I become utterly superfluous in a country that has a rather impressive grudge against me.”

“You know, I don’t know why I even bother with you sometimes.” Van turned away from Dilandau, staring at the mermaids tank for several long seconds, trying to calm himself down before he took a swing at the volatile youth.

He knew that this was just Dilandau being defensive, that he was likely terrified of what was going to happen today and in their rather bleak future, and taking it out on Van. Really, it’s not as if anyone had ever bothered to teach the volatile youth any better coping mechanisms.

Getting riled up at him wasn’t going to help at all. He knew from experience that the pale teen would just feed off of it and their tempers would flare up, likely resulting in their imminent electrocution. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend the morning. Especially not with a day of torture looming ahead of them.

“Look,” He finally sighed, running his fingers through his hair and wincing them they caught on a tangle. “I can’t sleep with you moving around like that.” Van stated, forcing his voice to remain calm and controlled despite his rising desire to throttle his cellmate. “It’s distracting and all you’re doing is exhausting yourself. Those cloaked bastards made it clear that today was going to be hell on us, so you should save what energy you can.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he shot the dragonslayer a rueful grin. “Besides, if you die, that makes ME superfluous in the care of some sorcerers who have a rather impressive grudge against me.” He parroted Dilandau’s words back at him, earning himself a somewhat shocked look. Likely the albino hadn’t credited him with having enough wit to come up with that little rejoinder.

“That, and the cot is cold and uncomfortable without you. Come back to bed.” As soon as the words left his lips, he knew that he’d just lost every point he’d just earned in that little battle of wills as his cheeks suddenly turned bright cherry red. Ugh, how could he have said that!? Could he have phrased that any worse? Hopefully the guards lurking in the shadows didn’t understand Astorian because he certainly had managed to sound like a lovelorn teenager. Unfortunately, Dilandau caught it as well and paused in his exercises to fix Van with a rather sultry smirk.

“Why Van, I had no idea you wanted to sleep with me so badly.” Long silvery white lashes were batted rather coquettishly in his direction and Van felt his cheeks grow even hotter. One day he was going to manage to not stumble out the first thing that came to mind when speaking with Dilandau.

Groaning loudly in exasperation, Van threw his hands up in the air and stalked back to the bed, though not before he caught the hint of a warm smile from the dragonslayer. It wasn’t much, but he had a feeling that somehow, he’d broken through the other teens strange moodiness.

Laying back on the cot, he closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the warmth of a second body to join him, but was surprised at the sound of hearing the shower begin to run. Glancing over, he once again caught sight of the dragonslayer standing there beneath the water, his body outlined by the faintest of light which seemed to highlight every sleek contour of muscle rather than hide his shape.

This time, he didn’t turn away, figuring that the two of them had pretty much seen the other perform just about every intimate body function one could while trapped together in close confines. There was no reason to stop speaking just because one of them happened to be undressed. Still, he did make a point to keep his eyes above waist level.

“You’re seriously having a shower now?” Van couldn’t help but ask, more than a little flabbergasted over just how often the other teen bathed.

Dilandau glanced over at him, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the room.

“Would you rather I curled up with you all disgusting and sweaty? It’s unhealthy Van. Besides, I could smell myself.” He wrinkled his nose slightly and Van had to quickly bite back the statement that he didn’t mind how Dilandau smelled. In fact, he rather liked it. It was exotic and dangerous... much like the youth himself.

“That’s rather thoughtful of you, but won’t you be cold?” He really hoped that the dragonslayer wasn’t going to curl up with him naked. It was bad enough knowing that he’d done that earlier in order to better share body heat. Besides, Van had barely been aware of it then. To knowingly hold the naked youth in his arms for hours, their bodies pressed intimately together with only a thin piece of cloth between them... that was just a little too much. It was honestly a little terrifying to realize that he’d been more intimate with his nemesis than he’d been with anyone else in his life.

Had Hitomi seen that in her cards? Did she know? Oh gods of gaea he hoped not.... he’d never be able to look her in the eyes again!

“You’re thinking too hard Van.” Dilandau chided him gently, dragging slender fingers through his hair in order to squeeze out the excess water before deciding to sacrifice his shirt as a towel. “What are you worried about now?”

There was no way he was going to honestly tell the albino what he actually was thinking. That was utter madness. Instead, his mind groped frantically for a topic, one which might sound more believable than “I was worried that my estranged girlfriend might find out that I know what it’s like to hold you in my arms naked.”

“I... I was just wondering what’s going to happen once we get out of here.” He finally stated, glancing around somewhat belatedly for any guards who might be listening. There were simply too many shadows which could be hiding lurking forms, so he switched to the soft growling language of the wolf clan. “We still allies when free?” He asked, wishing that his voice didn’t carry that rather distinct whining note of worry. “Still friends?”

Dilandau looked a little shocked at the question, likely not having reached the same understanding as Van as to the nature of their ever evolving relationship.

“Friends?” The dragonslayer found himself asking. “We’re friends?” There was a weight to his voice which lent the question a rather great deal of importance and Van knew that he’d damn well better answer honestly or never be able to sleep peacefully for the rest of their time in captivity.

Managing a faint smile, he reached into his shirt and pulled out the softly glowing feather. For a moment he simply admired it’s simple beauty, remembering how much he enjoyed having Dilandau’s wings wrapped around him, how his entire body had tingled at the sensation of their feathers brushing against each other.

“Made promise.” He stated, raising his gaze to see the light of the feather reflected in Dilandau’s eyes. “Past will stay in past. Make new life. Stronger together.”

“Stronger together.” Dilandau gently repeated the words, his own fingers reaching up and stroking lightly over the feather Van had given him, still hanging from his own neck. A faint smile graced his lips and for a moment, he almost looked shy, like a young man about to embark on a strange new journey with someone he was only beginning to get to know.

The moment lasted for only a few previous seconds before the dragonslayer seemed to realize how he was acting and Van watched as the hint of innocence was quickly wiped away from those beautiful features and was replaced with a much more sultry worldliness.

Those slender fingers which had been gently cupping the feather spread out, releasing the glowing treasure to slide lightly across gleaming alabaster skin.

Van could only stare as those skilled digits stroked an idle path around a pale nipple, already hardening from the chill of the room, standing firm in the center of a circle of palest rose flesh. The room didn’t seem quite as cold as it had before and he watched as those fingers circled that silken nub once, twice... three times, before slowly sliding down along that wonderfully defined flat abdomen, dipping playfully into the darkness of his navel.

“W...what are you doing Dilandau?” He asked softly, unconsciously slipping back into the much simpler Astorian, his voice growing strained and breathy as he struggled to pull his gaze away from the tantalizing sight. There was no reason he should find that as fascinating as he did. It was just skin dammit! Just smooth perfect skin which smelled like fire, night air and a hint of roses.

“There are better ways to say thank you.” The reply was whispered in a silken voice which tugged at something deep inside the king, making him want to groan in desire despite every ounce of good sense in his head which warned him to back away and resist this temptation. That’s all Dilandau was. A cruel temptation he could never have. One he shouldn’t even want, and likely wouldn’t have had they not been thrown into such a desperate situation, their lives hopelessly intimately intertwined.

Fingertips stroked teasingly along the waist of too thin pants which already hung indecently low on slender hips.

“I prefer actions over words.” Dilandau had approached the bed while Van had been too busy staring like the innocent he was, and before the king could react, those long slender legs had swung over his, allowing the dragonslayer to straddle him, their bodies pressed intimately together.

Van swallowed loudly as he felt firm flesh press against his groin and his eyes locked onto those twin crimson orbs of molten heat, filled with a promise he wasn’t ready to even begin to comprehend.

A slight rolling of hips stroked flesh against sensitive flesh, the pressure and the friction causing sparks to catch fire deep within Van’s groin and along his spine. His breath caught in his throat and before he realized what he was doing, his hands were reaching out. They slid up strong slender thighs, gently squeezed the thin hips which continued to roll teasingly, moving in a very deliberate rhythm. Each movement stoked the fire inside him, urging him onwards, demanding his surrender to this brilliant sensation.

“Much more pleasant don’t you think?” Warm breath brushed across his lips as Dilandau purred, his face only inches away, those glowing eyes staring into his, amusement glinting in their depths.

Sweet gods of Gaea, he could barely think! Every minute movement, every muscle flexing caused another storm of sensation to cascade through Van’s body and with a gasp, his hips began to move in tandem, adding to the pleasure. He heard Dilandau gasp softly at the increase in pressure, his hands sliding up Van’s body, leaving trails of the most delicious fire in their wake.

Yes... this was perfect... this was brilliant... this was... this wasn’t happening!

Van’s eyes widened as his mind cleared for just a moment, long enough to realize that he was not about to let himself be seduced by Dilandau in the middle of some vile and disgusting dungeon! He was not going to let the dragonslayer take control like this and he certainly wasn’t going to take part in whatever little power game his rival was indulging in this time!

Grabbing onto Dilandau’s wrists, he twisted his hips sharply to the side. The movement was the exact same one he’d used to throw the other draconian onto his back that last night in Astoria, and to his surprise, it worked just as well the second time.

With a soft grunt, Dilandau now found himself to be the one who was pinned to the cot, Van’s weight pressing down from above, the darker youth’s eyes almost black with desire. Plump lips pulled back from gleaming teeth as he struggled to regain control over himself, giving the king an almost feral look.

A soft moan slipped past Dilandau’s lips as he stared at the other youth, nearly overcome at how vicious and gorgeous the king appeared. His entire body quivered in need and he flexed his wrists, testing the other teens hold.

Once again, Van’s greater strength held true and the dragonslayer couldn’t help but bite his lip slightly in anticipation, eager to see what the now dominant youth would do. Oh sweet fate, it felt so good to be held down like this! To feel that firm flesh pressed against him so intimately. He couldn’t resist drawing his legs up slightly, sliding them against Van’s sides in a hungry caress even as he welcomed the darker youth to claim what he wanted.

“All you have to do is ask.” He purred teasingly, giving his hips a little twist and catching his breath at the intense burst of pleasure it created. “Or will you prefer to simply take?”

The words jolted Van out of his lust filled haze more effectively than a slap to the face and he practically threw himself away from Dilandau with a pained groan, leaving the albino to lay there panting and trying to figure out just when he’d lost control of the situation. Had he almost... no.... no, he was just teasing Van, making his life hard for no other reason than he could. It was just a game, taunting the king with what he’d never have... that’s all it was...

Still, the heat seared through him and his groin was filled with molten pressure. Gloriously pleasurable only moments before, it had now turned painful with the denial and Dilandau had to bite back a faint whimper.

Ok... that had been a rather stupid plan...

 

Another day began with the lights turning on, demanding immediate wakefulness from those who were trapped within. For two prisoners, who still lay back to back on the cot, unable to return to sleep, or face looking at each other, it was an almost welcome interruption.

For the past two hours, they’d refused to move from their positions, struggling to will their arousal's away. Van was mortified to even find himself in such a state. He went over what he’d done in his head, hating himself a little more each time and dwelling on that growing self disgust. How could he even think of doing something like that in this place? With Dilandau? He knew the other boy was psychologically damaged but this... Gods of Gaea. How could his body betray him like that? How could it have wanted that?

Of course, there was a little voice in the back of his mind which refused to be silent. It recalled how glorious it had felt, how his nerves had caught fie in a way they never had before. Every cell in his body had been singing and he couldn’t get the image of how utterly breathtaking the albino had looked pinned beneath him, desperate naked hunger shining in his eyes for those few unguarded moments.

No! He couldn’t think of that, of how wonderfully their bodies had fit against each other, how he could still feel that delicious breath against his lips, those strong thighs pressing against him.... Dammit!! It had taken hours to get his arousal to go down and now he was right back where he started! Stupid.Teenage.Hormones! This wasn’t fair!! What was worse was that everyone would see it! The stupid shift and those pants wouldn’t hide a thing. Dilandau would see what he’d done to the king and smirk a the power he held. The guards would laugh, likely call him a pervert and a freak for allowing another male to bring him to this state... even if said male was beautiful and exotic and fierce...and....DAMMIT!

Snarling loudly to himself, Van got up off the cot and stalked over to the shower, doing his best to keep his back to the dragonslayer. Don’t let him see, just play it casual... he’d said that it was perfectly normal to shower in the mornings...

The icy cold water was far from pleasant and he had to bite back a yelp at the shock to his system. It prompted him to be as quick as possible beneath the stinging beads of ice, but he knew that this was a problem that wouldn’t go away so easily. His body was stubborn after all, and it so rarely indulged in such feelings, making the molten pool of lust between his legs rather stubborn to say the least.

He must have stood beneath the water for nearly fifteen minutes. Long enough to be shivering violently and for one of the guards to come by and rap loudly against the bars of their cell with his staff, barking out something that sounded decidedly mocking. To his dismay, Dilandau snapped back a response which not only pulled the guards attention off of the king, but seemed to throw the man into a righteous fury.

Van watched in horror as the guard stalked over to the control panel by the wall, the panel which controlled the electrical feed to their bars. He was going to electrocute them!

Frantically, Van shut of the water to the shower and got away from the surrounding puddles, cursing himself for being soaked at the worst possible moment.

Thankfully, a second guard stepped up, stopping his furious counterpart from shocking them to within an inch of their lives.

“What in the name of every god and goddess on Gaea did you say to him!?” Van snarled at Dilandau even as he grabbed his shirt and began to dry off as quickly as possible. If nothing else had come of this, at least the threat of electrocution had killed his erection. Small miracle.

Unsurprisingly, Dilandau looked as smug and arrogant as usual. Unlike Van, he didn’t look half as frustrated, likely having taken care of things in a more traditional sense while the king was freezing his balls off in the shower which was NOT something Van wanted to picture right about now. That last angry thought was aimed at certain body parts which seemed to be suddenly interested in picturing that little gem.

Both teens cast a somewhat nervous eye at the guards who were still arguing at the controls for the cages though it looked like the sensible guard was winning, much to their combined relief. Not that Van was about to let Dilandau off the hook either way.

“Well?” He snapped, fixing the albino with a glare worthy of peeling flesh from bones. Naturally, the dragonslayer simply lay back down on the cot, lacing his fingers behind his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“He said that you should have just screwed me. That he wanted to see what it looked like for freaks to fuck.” It churned his stomach to think that those bastards had been watching them earlier, that they were entertained by the hellish drama of his life. Unsurprising, but no less disgusting.

“And what did you say back to him?” This time Dilandau grinned, actually looking proud of himself and the rage he’d induced in their captors.

“I said that if he wanted to see that, he should set up a mirror the next time he fucked his mother.” Gods.... Dilandau was going to get them both killed.

He couldn’t deal with this, not right now, not ever. The urge to strangle the pale teen was nearly overwhelming and what made things worse was that he didn’t even seem the least bit concerned with this! As if it was all just some amusing game to him!

“Right now, Guard B is telling Guard A that if he electrocutes us, it will likely cause too much strain to our systems and kill us during the experiments. Guard A doesn’t seem to care much but at least Guard B realizes what Shroden will do to them if the experiments fail because of one idiots temper.”

“You really are something aren’t you.” Van murmured, shaking his head even as his fingers rubbed at his temples, trying to massage away the now threatening migraine. “You are intentionally provoking the man!” The look Dilandau shot him was the sort of look on might give an exceptionally stupid child who had just managed to grasp the blindingly obvious... which Van figured, he likely had just done. Yeah... Dilandau wanted to die, wanted the experiment to fail and the idea of Shroden being disgraced and likely summarily punished by his Basrami benefactors would simply be icing on the proverbial cake.... lovely. Celena couldn’t stop an indirect attempt at self destruction, she could only bar him from wielding the blade himself.

He supposed that it made a certain sort of sick symmetry to the dragonslayer. Dilandau would die the same way he was born, tied down and cut apart on a table the man who’d created him standing over him like some cloaked reaper. Gods, if there had been food in his stomach, he likely would be vomiting it up right about now.

This couldn’t go on. Somewhere, someone was going to slip up or not be fast enough and the young captain would have his wish for oblivion. As much as Van wanted to choke the life out of him with his own two hands, he didn’t want to have to face this alone.... or, if he was being wholly honest. He didn’t want to know that the fierce Dilandau Albatou was no longer in the world. Somewhere along the line, he’d actually sort of developed a masochistic affection for the bastard.

At least the fight at the control panel seemed to have ended with the one guard stalking away, pausing just long enough to shoot what was most likely a glare of death at the pale teen. It was hard to tell with the masks. For his part, Dilandau looked utterly nonplussed, which prompted the second guard to stalk over and snap at him, seeming to lecture him at length.

Van only caught the odd word, mostly “Idiot” “Stupid” and “freak”. None were overly helpful, but h had a feeling that the guard was likely echoing his own feelings in regards to the suicidal behaviour... only with likely less altruistic reasons behind it. The man didn’t care about them as people, that much was clear. He simply didn’t want to lose his job or be punished for inattention.

At least the lecture didn’t last long. With a few rather venomous sounding snarls, the guard stalked away, likely to report the whole damn incident so that it could properly come back and haunt them again.

Knowing that the group with breakfast would be along shortly to feed them then take them to hell, Van quickly slipped over to the cot and sat down on the edge, his fingers idly toying with the feather hanging on it’s chain. He could feel Dilandau’s eyes on him, watching him with their usual rapt intensity.

“I wish you’d stop trying to die.” He found himself murmuring softly. His voice so at odds with the nearly overwhelming tension in the room that it couldn’t help but capture the albino’s attention. “We’re stuck in this together remember. If you die, I die... and I know you might not think of that as a bad thing, but I do... I don’t want to die. I want to live and get back to my kingdom. I want to help Fanelia survive this winter, I want to see my people thrive and grow strong again.” His eyes closed for a moment as he remembered those happier times before the war... before Folken had vanished and his mother had followed. That beautiful state of innocence would never return, it could only continue to live on in his heart, but he could try to build something better in it’s place, something just as precious.

“Why?” Dilandau asked, those piercing eyes staring into his, not mocking or filled with their usual fury. There was bitterness and hopelessness in their depths, but the question sounded honest. “Why should I live? Why should I fight to keep going when I know what’s coming? You have your kingdom to go back to. You have that stupid cat, your friends, your future.

“I have a brother who wants me to turn back into his stupid living doll. I have a lover who can’t even look me in the eyes without being disgusted and every known kingdom on Gaea demanding my head.

“Maybe it’s better to just die here. Then they won’t be able to make their super soldiers, the project will fall apart and Gaea will be safe. Shroden will be killed for incompetence and I’ll have my revenge.” He smiled slightly, the look was fragile and tremulous. “All I have to do to achieve that is to simply stop fighting... a few little pushes at the right time with the right guard and it would all be over. You should be happy for this Van, you’ve wanted my death for so long. You could escape in the confusion, even be the big hero and rescue those poor test subjects... at least the two that will live. I fail to see any problems with this strategy.”

“The problem is that you’d be dead you moron!” Van snapped, stomping over to the bed and grabbing onto the collar of Dilandau’s thin shirt, bodily dragging him off the bed and glaring at him angrily. “You’ve never surrendered a fight a day in your life! Why start now? Yeah it hurts, yes terrible things will come of this and no, you don’t have the brightest of futures ahead of you, but you know what? SO WHAT?! That’s never stopped you before has it? You fight. That’s what you do! It doesn’t matter the odds or the reward, you live to prove that you’re better than your enemies and to rub their noses in it!

“Yeah, you dying would likely take down Shroden and end this damn experiment, but where’s the satisfaction in that? Think of how much better it would be to tear apart his stupid super soldiers and prove that you’re still the better warrior. Picture him gnashing his teeth as his stupid disgusting experiment burns all around him! Prove to Allen that you’re the better sibling, that you deserve this body! Show Gaddes that you can stand on your own damn two feet and that you don’t need him!

“Hells, go back and depose the damn Zaibach Emperor if that’s your goal. Rebuild the whole empire into something strong again, give your countrymen their pride back!” Dammit, yeah, there he was, giving the psychotic warlord ideas... he really hoped that Dilandau didn’t get it into his head to rebuild Zaibach because currently policy aside, Van was pretty sure that if the young captain showed up in their capital city with a squad behind him, demanding that they follow him to glory rather than wallow in defeat, he’d have a damn army by the end of the day.

“Live Dilandau. Help me get those poor test subjects out of here and somewhere safe. Help me get back to Fanelia so that I can protect my people. I might be able to do it alone, but really... I’d rather do it together with you.” On impulse, he reached out and lifted up both the feathers hanging from their necks, holding them so that they were between them and impossible to miss. “The last two draconians on the planet Dilandau. Do you really want to go out with a whimper? Or would you rather show the entire world what you’re made of?”

Those eyes narrowed at the challenge being so blatantly laid out for him. Van knew he was right and that Dilandau would never be able to resist a challenge, especially to his pride. The Dragonslayer of course recognized the manipulation and judging by the look on his face, took a certain level of amusement from it, but in the end, he nodded minutely and his slender fingers cupped Van’s as they both held the feathers.

“On two conditions.” The albino stated, his voice leaving no room for compromise. Van found himself grinning despite himself, as unwilling to back down as his counterpart.

“Name them.” He could taste the victory in the air and knew that he’d won.

“First, we don’t stop until Shroden is dead. I can’t kill him myself, but you can. I won’t let you stop fighting until you’re able to present me with his head... both of them.”

“Done... disgusting... but done.”

“Secondly...” Now Dilandau smiled in a rather shark-like manner and Van knew that he really wasn’t going to like the demand. “Kamata comes with us.”

“...the dragon.”

“Yes”

“The dragon that’s always trying to kill you.”

“Says the white dragon who’s tried to kill me on multiple occasions.”

“It’s an animal. A dangerous animal.” Van knew he wasn’t going to win this.

“Most would say the same about me. The dragon comes with us. It doesn’t deserve this fate.”

“What about the others? The merpeople and the doppleganger?”

“Fuck em, they’re boring. I like the dragon. He has spunk.”

“You’re just saying that because he wants to eat you.”

“You want to eat me too and you don’t hear me whining about it.” Nope, he didn’t want to know what was being implied there... not at all. Ignorance was a beautiful thing.

“You just want a pet that can breathe fire.”

“Agree Van, or I swear on my twisted fate that I will find a way to end both of us before the day is out.” The look in those crimson eyes warned that this wasn’t a bluff and Van felt his wings twitch deep inside his body. Gods of Gaea, how the hell were they going to manage this?

“Fine, the dragon comes with us.” He grumbled softly, feeling the weight of what was likely going to be an impossible task press down on him. At least he had the satisfaction of seeing Dilandau grin at him in utter delight, causing him to practically light up from within.

Releasing the feathers, the albino’s strong hands clasped both of his shoulders, pulling him close enough that their bodies lightly touched, causing delicious tingles of anticipation at every point of contact. Van could only stare up into those smouldering ruby eyes in shock and for a moment, he was utterly convinced that Dilandau was going to kiss him or something equally horrifying.

For once, fate seemed to take pity on him and the sharp rap of one of the guards staves against the cell bars jolted the two teens out of this little world, reminding them that their lives were still at the mercy of others. While Van gave a slight sigh of relief, glad to be freed from whatever spell had mysteriously wrapped around them, Dilandau appeared to be more annoyed than anything. His fingers tightened almost possessively on Van’s shoulder for a moment before dropping to his side as he backed up towards the far end of their cell, anticipating the guards orders.

Van had little choice but to follow suit and wait was the aged and scrawny slave woman scuttled forward, gently placing their breakfast of drugged sludge on the floor. The king did his best not to wrinkle his nose in disgust at the idea of eating the foul gruel, but knew that he had very little choice in the matter. That lesson had been driven home well enough. Either he cooperated, or those around him suffered. It really wasn’t worth fighting, especially when the drugs hadn’t had any detrimental effects on his system... so far.

There still wasn’t any cutlery, but at least the food was warm. More importantly, it filled that yawning hole inside his belly and made him feel as if he just might survive the day. Neither youth complained about the bland fare and finished every lumpy bit of goop as well as draining the cups of the strange liquid which still didn’t taste quite like water.

As soon as they were finished, the guards barked out the now familiar order for them to follow and behave, stepping back to make room for them to exit. There might not have been any looming cloaked figures that they could see, but the threat remained. Neither teen disobeyed, moving quickly into line and allowing themselves to be docilely led to the labs like lambs to the slaughter.

Van focused on his breathing, doing his best to keep it calm and slow despite the racing of his heart. Horrible images of those twisted experiments continued to haunt him, growing sharper with every step, reminding him that today, there would be more abominations created, more suffering aimed at innocent children. Suffering that he was a part of, unwilling or not.

 

Van looked around, more than a little shocked at his surroundings. The last thing he’d remembered was the hideous pain tearing through his body as his blood was drained from his body. Hearing those terrible screams tearing through the air as Dilandau shrieked in agony and feeling that terrible power sizzle along his skin.

Experience had taught him that he should have expected some twisted landscape or gore filled slaughterhouse. Instead, he found himself in his childhood nursery back in Fanelia.

The air was warm and fresh, smelling of new growth and clear mountain air. Sunlight bathed the cheery light blue walls with their radiance and the fancifully painted dragons and melefs painted in mock combat were bright, as if they’d been only recently painted. The bed which rested against the wall was small, draped with light summer sheets and several soft toys had been piled haphazardly across it’s surface, all of them bearing the dents, scuffs and patches of well loved companions.

A sad smile tugged at his lips as he stared at the room, drinking in the sighs of his childhood lost so long ago. The day Folken had been declared dead, he’d been moved out of this room and into a series of suites more suited for a future king. His nursery had been sealed shut, waiting until he had children of his own to populate it once more. In his grief, he hadn’t even taken any of his toys along his pilgrimage into adulthood, believing the words of his advisors that he was a man now, and must act like one. He’d been only five at the time and struggling with the sudden loss of not only his brother, but his mother as well.

“What sort of hellscape is this?” A harsh voice demanded, shattering the silence with an audible sneer. Spinning around, Van stared in shock at the on person he never thought he’d ever see in this precious childhood sanctuary... then he did a double take... and a triple.

Dilandau stood there in front of him, arms crossed insolently over his chest, snowy white hair falling haphazardly into his crimson eyes and his lips curling slightly in disgust. Only, this was the dragonslayer as he’d never seen him before. Long lean limbs were now short and scrawny while the once beautifully sculpted face was plump with childhood softness. Though those jewel-like eyes were narrowed in suspicion, they still appeared to be almost too large for the rounded face they’d been set into, giving the normally jaded warlord an illusion of innocence that he’d never possessed.

He was still an uncannily beautiful child, with skin as pale as snow, unblemished by any scars or callouses. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the shortness of the hair, Dilandau could easily be mistaken for a little girl. Not that he’d appreciate the comparison at all. Still, Van couldn’t help but snicker at what an adorable child the fearsome teenager had been. Without the zaibach hardness which had sculpted him into a child warrior long before his peers had grown beyond their toys, his astorian roots were obvious. All he was missing were petty lace bows and elaborately puffed sleeves to complete the image.

Judging by the growing look of shock on the albino’s face... which coincidentally made his already oversized eyes even larger, Van likely had taken on the appearance of a similar age. It was somewhat gratifying to see that he was actually a little taller than the pale teen... er... boy, and he could feel a wide grin spread across his face.

“You were such a cute kid Dilandau.” He chose to ignore common sense and taunt the other child, unable to contain the sudden influx of youthful exuberance. It was obvious that the fearsome dragonslayer had no clue what he was talking about, a fact which made the young king grin even wider. Oh gods of Gaea, this was gold.

He watched as realization slowly donned on the other child and those ruby eyes stared down at his hands, noting his tiny slender fingers and soft weak arms. Surprisingly, the next thing Dilandau did was grab the front of his pants, cupping his crotch, giving a sigh of relief moments later.

“Did you seriously just check to see if you had a penis?” The look bestowed upon him wasn’t one anyone should ever see on the face of a five year old.

“Not all of us always had one.” Dilandau spat back. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t the little bitch.” It likely was a fair point, but Van still couldn’t resist snickering a little more. Favouring the young king with another sneer, the dragonslayer surveyed the room, looking far more serious than a boy his age ever should. The effect was rather comical.

“So where are we? This is the strangest room I’ve ever seen.” Crimson eyes fell upon the stuffed toys on the bed and the zaibachi child dropped into a low crouch, ready for an attack. “Those things are back!” He hissed, clearly preparing to do battle with Sir Tuppy, Mr Button and Mopsy.

“Those are my childhood toys.” Van had to struggle to keep his voice from shattering into laughter. “I wasn’t aware that they’d been stalking you.” Those strange eyes flicked over into his direction for a moment, radiating suspicion.

“You.... you named them?” This obviously was totally uncharted waters for the pale child and in a fit of good humour, Van decided to take this moment to educate his companion on the fine art of childhood.

“This is my nursery.” He explained, waving his hand around the room in an all encompassing gesture. At Dilandau’s blank look he gave a little sigh and climbed up onto the bed. “You don’t know what a nursery is?” Yeah, that was a totally lost look, Dilandau wasn’t even trying to hide it. “It’s a kids room. My room, before Folken died and I became heir to the throne.”

Mopsy was just as soft as he remembered. It was a stuffed dragon made of cloth cut from his mothers old dresses and stuffed with her softest feathers. She’d made it herself for when he was born and he’d made sure to carry it around everywhere with him.

“This is Mopsy.” He gave the toy a little hug, an action he would never have done as an adult, but it felt appropriate seeing as how he was now a five year old. Obviously this was a dream of some sort. It was the only logical explanation. Thankfully it was pleasant enough that he had no interest in fighting it. If his mind had decided to take him back to a more innocent time, who was he to argue. Besides, he felt as if he really needed this. Even just the simple act of hugging his precious toy made him feel stronger, more centered than before.

“You named that piece of garbage.” Dilandau stared at him with a sort of confused disgust one might give a child hugging a literal piece of trash and giving it a name.

Feeling more than a little defensive towards his childhood friend, Van gave the dragon another squeeze, noting happily that he could still smell his mothers perfume on it. He hadn’t felt this comforted in years and the warm wetness of tears began to edge along his eyes.

“My mother made this for me, stitching it together while she was pregnant with me.” He sated in a soft voice. “He’s made with her dresses and feathers. Even the buttons she used for eyes were hers.” Dilandau stared at the toy, his face utterly blank and uncomprehending. “This was my first toy and I always refused to go to sleep until he was tucked in with me and momma had given us both kisses.”

“Why”

“Why what?” Van honestly didn’t understand the question at all. What was so confusing about having a precious toy?.... oh... yeah. Dilandau hadn’t grown up with toys and being tucked into bed by a loving parental figure. No wonder he didn’t know what one was. Chances were high that he’d never dealt with small children before and this was likely the most contact he’d ever had with real childhood.

Feeling a little inspired by this realization, Van tentatively held out his precious toy.

“Did you want to hold him?” He asked, already regretting the words and missing having the soft cloth pressed against his skin.

Those crimson eyes glanced down at the toy and Van saw the faintest glimmer of curiosity in their depths before those walls of disinterest slammed down. Turning away, Dilandau began to look around the rest of the room, walking over to the bookshelf and staring at the spines of the colourful books.

“My written Fanelian is shit. What do these say?” He demanded, pulling one out and stared in horror at the colourful hand painted cover depicting a fat prancing pony and purple pig. “On second thought... I’m not sure I want to know. That’s too strange even for me.”

Casually tossing the precious book aside with his usual thoughtless arrogance, he pulled out a few more, looking just as horrified by the brightly coloured overly happy pictures gracing each cover. Van had to scramble forward to catch the priceless books. Each one had been hand made for him, gifts from family and fanelian nobles to mark his birthdays. They were valuable memories to the young king and each character in the stories had been like a close companion to him.

He’d often pretend to go on great adventures with Happy Hooves the pony, Sir Eddard the forgetful knight and Great King Snufflenose the rabbit. With them, he’d conquered enemies great and small, reenacted their quests and rescued many a maiden fair. Well, his other toys had helped.

“You don’t have any battle texts? No strategy books or scrolls? I thought Fanelia was a kingdom of warriors... you know, this is why you were so easy to conquer, you spent your time studying... whatever that purple thing is.”

“That’s Gord the purple pig.”

“Sweet fate, that’s a pig?!” Dilandau gave the book another glance. “Was it mutated by madoushi or something?”

“No, it’s just a pig. Stop insulting my childhood.”

“I’m not insulting your childhood, I’m mocking your breeding programs if that’s what a fanelian pig looks like. Poor thing, it should have been culled at birth.” He honestly wasn’t sure if Dilandau was mocking him or not. It was hard to tell what with those big eyes giving him a permanently innocent appearance. The albino would have gotten away with literal murder at the Astorian court... actually, he’d gotten away with actual murder at the zaibachi court...yeah, best not to think about that. Instead, he carefully put the books back into their places and turned around to find Dilandau pawing through more of this things. Gods, it was worse than dealing with Merle!

“What’s this?”

“It’s a guymelef that Balgus carved me.”

“Does it kill other toys?”

“Of course not!” Van reached out to snatch the precious treasure from those uncaring hands, catching it just as Dilandau dropped it in utter disinterest.

“That’s boring. Do you have anything in there that can actually do damage? Or is everything you own useless?”

“People don’t give five year old’s weapons Dilandau!”

“I had a selection of knives.”

“The people who raised you were insane monsters remember? Normal kids don’t get to touch weapons until their around twelve, and even then, they’re usually wooden or just dull pot metal.” Again there was a flash of dull resentment aimed at him and Van took a deep breath, struggling to remember that they’d come from different worlds and that the dragonslayer likely honestly didn’t understand what it was like to be cared for and raised by loving parents. It likely wasn’t the sort of thing his men had talked about, at least not with their captain.

“Here, sit down.” Van reached out and grabbed onto Dilandau’s wrist, pulling him down to the floor. Thankfully, the other boy obeyed, a look of mild confusion on his face which only grew as Van sat Mopsy down on the albino’s lap. “As I said, this is Mopsy, you should introduce yourself to him. Manners are important in kids.”

“I’m not a kid Van, and this is just trash.”

“Just play along and stop being an ass.”

“I can’t believe you gave me grief over naming Kamata when you named a bunch of rags.”

“Just introduce yourself to the damn toy and give him a hug.” Van growled through gritted teeth, more than ready to strangle the obstinate dragonslayer.

“I am NOT introducing myself to a bundle of rags! I’ve never done anything so stupid in pointless in my life!”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe some of those huge holes in your life are because you never got to do anything pointless and silly?” Van shot back, not cowed in the least by the ferocious glare being aimed at him. “From the sounds of it, everything you ever did was a life and death matter. You had to learn, to fight and survive just to keep your masters happy. Well, here you don’t. Here’s it’s just us, so what have you got to lose?”

“My pride.”

“Oh please, those sorcerers could have you crawling on your belly and licking their boots if they wanted to so don’t give me that.” Ok, judging by the look he just got, that wasn’t the way to go with the dragonslayer. “How about you just hold it? Think your pride can manage that?”

“Will it get you to shut up about the stupid bundle of rags?”

“His name is Mopsy.”

“Whatever.” Dilandau rolled his eyes dramatically before heaving a heavy sigh and picking up the toy as if it might bite him. Doing his best to not look like he was staring, even though it was exactly what he was doing, Van watched as the fierce warlord turned child turned the toy this way and that, curiosity finally winning out over disgust. He idly toyed with the bits of loose cloth joining the forelegs to the body, creating “wings” for the dragon to fly. Van couldn’t help but smile, remembering all the times he’d asked his mother why Mopsy didn’t have wings like they did and how he could fly with just that flat bit of skin. The explanation still didn’t make too much sense to him now, but he could attest that while land dragons glided more than flew, it was still impressive to see... especially if the damn thing was coming after you at the time.

“You think this thing is flammable?” Dilandau’s thoughtful voice broke through his little reverie and he fixed the dragonslayer with a look of death.

“Do you have some sort of daily quota of horrible things you have to say or something?” Van wanted to snatch the precious toy back and hug it protectively, but he noticed that despite his harsh words, the dragonslayer was gently petting the soft cloth of the dragons head, the look in his eyes was more one of curiosity than maliciousness.

Dilandau grinned cockily back at him and opened his mouth to say something the young king was positive he didn’t want to hear when he was interrupted by the nursery door opening. The albino dropped the toy, adopting a battle ready stance, his eyes narrowed and wary while Van stood there, his eyes growing wider in shocked delight as the tall figure strode into the room like a warm summer breeze.

“Van, my sweet one. There you are. I’ve been looking for you. Are you hiding from Nanny again?” His mother smiled down at him warmly, her long dark hair drifting about her in a fall of silken shadow, almost brushing the floor as she knelt down and extended her arms to her son.

“Momma?” He could feel her warmth from where he stood, smell the faint fragrance of her favourite perfume. How could a memory be so real? The weight of his loneliness, so long repressed overwhelmed him and he dove into her arms, burying his face against her soft breast. “Momma! I missed you so much!”

Varie chuckled softly, the sound radiating the unfathomable love she felt for her youngest son.

“Oh sweetling, I’m sorry I had to go away, but it wasn’t for that long, only a few hours. You’ve made Nanny quite upset you know. Why did you hide from her?” Her soft slender arms wrapped around him and he could feel their comforting warmth right down into his soul. His breaths came in soft sobs as he drank in her presence and a warm wetness slid across his cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to hide.” His voice sounded so soft and lost. “I.... I wanted to show my friend my toys.” His mother pulled back slightly, looking at him in amused confusion.

“Your friend?” Following his line of sight, she glanced over at Dilandau who glared at her with open faced hostility and... fear? That was odd. What had she ever done to him?

Strangely enough, Varie’s eyes passed over the pale child as if he wasn’t there. Instead, they fell upon the toy dragon sitting on the floor and she smiled indulgently.

“I see, and is your friend playing nicely with your toys?” Her elegant hand reached out to pick up the precious stuffed dragon, but Dilandau beat her to it, scooping it up and hugging it tightly to his chest, guarding it jealously from her touch. His eyes were smouldering with open challenge and his lips pulled back to bare tiny little child’s teeth.

For a moment, Varie paused, a slight frown marring her features as she appeared to be confused, her dark eyes unable to properly focus on where the toy had rested moment’s ago.

She couldn’t see Dilandau. Van gasped softly as he realized this. It made a strange sort of sense really, this was his mind after all, his memories, and the fierce little dragonslayer hadn’t even existed yet.

“He doesn’t know how to play with toys.” The young king explained, inwardly amazed at how easily he was falling into the character of a small five year old. He wasn’t sure if it was part of this strange dreamlike world they were in, the power of his mothers arms, or if he was finally having that expected mental breakdown. Either way, he wasn’t minding it overly much. It felt good, as if the weight of all of his worries and responsibilities had fallen away. They were future Van’s problems, not his... not for many years. Until then, five year old Van was going to enjoy hugging his mother and drinking in the smell of her perfume.

“Well I hope you teach him how to play nice.” She smiled down at Van and playfully ruffled his hair, causing the young king to giggle in childish delight. Encouraged by the sounds he made, her deft fingers found all of his hidden ticklish spots, his belly, his armpits and behind his knees. “You know what happens to little boys who don’t play nice with their toys.” Varie made playful biting sounds as she continued her onslaught, causing Van to squeal loudly as he tried to curl up in a little ball and protect himself from the ruthless tickles. His skin turned bright red and his laughter filled the room until she scooped him up deftly into her arms and spun him around playfully.

“Now then my little dragon, it’s time for your nap you know.” Her hands gently deposited him on the bed, carefully wrapping a soft light blanket around him.

“I don’t wanna nap.” Van protested meekly. “I’m playing with my friend.” He again looked over at Dilandau who hadn’t moved from where he stood, watching the interaction between the two with smouldering eyes, glaring at them over the head of the little stuffed dragon.

“I don’t like her.” Dilandau hissed softly, his fingers tightening around the toy. “Make her go away.”

“I’m not making her go away!” Van yelled, sitting up sharply and glaring over at the albino. “She’s my mom! I love her!” Varie glanced over at the space where Dilandau stood, then back at her son, a look of confusion and mild concern on her face.

“I’m not going away sweetling.” She smiled gently down at him, running her delicate fingers through his hair. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“She’s lying and you know it.” Dilandau continued in a low voice, his eyes little more than softly glowing slits, though Van could practically feel the jealous wrath radiating off of the other boy. “She abandoned you like you were nothing. She chose that bastard Folken over you, leaving all alone, a little boy without his precious family.” He practically snarled the last word, contempt dripping from it like acid, causing Van to flinch.

“You’re just mad because you never had a family!” The king shot back. “No on ever loved you, so you want to take away what I have. Well you did, remember? You burned it all down, you killed everyone! Did that make you feel better? Did it make you feel like you belonged?”

“MAKE HER GO AWAY!” Dilandau screamed, his eyes flaring with energist light. The arms around Van twitched, their softness fading, becoming cold and leathery. The silken strands of hair brushing against his face became falling ash and even as the young king stared in growing horror, his mother looked down at him, smiled softly, then burst apart into a spray of black feathers.

“NOOO!!!” Van screamed, reaching out desperately to grab the shadowy pinions, only to have them crumble in his hands, leaving ashy bloody smears against his palms. “MOMMA!!”

The room around him dissolved. The cheery paint on the walls crumbled, peeled and blackened before the stone behind them crumbled away. The floor was littered with the dead and decaying corpses of a recent battle, the fetid stink of the fallen hanging heavily in the air and the blanket tucked around him was a bloody banner, the edges singed and torn.

Dilandau stood there amongst the carnage, the toy clutched in his hands, only now it was charred and blackened, chunks falling away beneath his touch, revealing the black bloody feathers stuffed within. They stuck to his fingers, covering them with their sticky gore, but he didn’t appear to notice as he continued to stroke its ruined shape.

Real eyes had replaced the shiny buttons on the little dragon’s face, and they stared at him. Wide, silently screaming, they begged for death.

“They say that they love us, but they don’t. Not really.” Dilandau’s voice was soft, different from his usual purr. There was something broken in it’s depths and Van found himself shuddering in horror as he realized that those terrible eyes staring into his were a brilliant blue, the exact same shade as Allen’s.

Unaware of the horror she was causing, Celena continued to gently stroke the toy, a faint smile pulling at her lips.

“They leave us when we need them the most don’t they. Our fathers went away... they never even said goodbye... not properly. They left us nothing but a legacy of pain... blood begets blood begets blood. Then our brothers left us... they were supposed to protect us, keep us safe... but they didn’t did they? How many tears did we shed for them? Begging them to come for us? To save us from the fates we could feel creeping towards us on darkened wings?”

“C...Celena?” Van took a hesitant step forward, a hand raising tentatively, unsure how to deal with the youngest Schezar.

“Our mother’s left us as well. They could have fought for us, but they didn’t. Neither of them did. Yours chose your brother over you. We saw it... we felt it. So much pain. Did it hurt to have your illusions shattered? Dilandau never had any, so I don’t know what it was like... but I can imagine.” Her fingers dug deeper into the ruined toy with a sickening squelching sound and blood began to pour freely from the gaping hole. “Mine chose to simply fade away. She was weak... so weak. She never tried to find me, never fought for me. Aren’t mothers supposed to defy the odds for their children? Aren’t they supposed to move mountains to keep them safe? Mine simply went away... just like yours.”

“Allen fought for you!” Van forced the words out past his disgust and horror, his mind still struggling to figure out how a sweet memory of his childhood had suddenly turned to horribly wrong. “He searched for you for years! He fought me to keep you safe. He was ready to die for you!”

“No.” Celena giggled softly, sounding like a young girl with a naughty secret she was just itching to tell. “He fought for my memory. His memory. That’s all I am to him... it’s all I am to anyone.” Her laughter grew in volume as she began to slowly remove her hand from the toy. Gore covered entrails were pulled out, spilling down her front and piling at her feet in a disgusting mound.

When her hand finally slipped free with a wet squelching pop, Van could see that her fingers were closed tightly around a large and very bloody drag-energist stone. It pulsed in her grip the deep light within throbbing like a heartbeat.

“We’re not whole... we never were.” She explained, extending her hand, and the bloody stone towards him. “Take it, make us whole.”

“W...what are you talking about? I don’t want the damn stone!” He tried to bat her hand away but it was like hitting a statue. Her slender limb was immovable.

“Take it Van. Quickly. They’re coming. Can you hear the sound of their wings? They’ve come to feast on the bones of the world and if you’re not careful, they’ll feast on you as well. Then you’ll be one of them forever.”

The energist was thrust into his hands. It was surprisingly hot, seeming to pulse against his flesh as if it was alive. “Guard him well Van.” Celena cautioned, still clutching the ruined toy to her chest tightly as if drawing some strange sort of comfort from it. “Everything rests on you. It always did.”

Her last words faded away as her body dissolved into mist, blowing away on an unfelt breeze. In it’s wake, he could hear the beating of wings, many large wings heading towards him.

 

He woke up to the disinfectant stink and blinding lights of the lab. As before, his body screamed with agony and exhaustion, his limbs bound down tightly enough that he could feel the leather biting into his extremities. Blood coated his wrists, warning that despite his mind being elsewhere, his body had still struggled against the sorcerers.

Salzar stood over him, little more than a shadow blotting out the worst of the lights glare. Cold fingers pressed against his skin, monitoring his vitals despite the fact that there were plenty of machines already hooked up to him, happily displaying the most intimate information regarding his body.

Groaning softly in pain, Van tried to pull away from the loathsome touch but his restraints held him still as the fingers trailed up his neck and slid through his hair, the touch was chillingly possessive. The urge to vomit was strong, but he simply didn’t have the strength. In fact, he could barely keep his eyes open. Everything spun around him and whenever he blinked his eyes, he was positive that he could see Celena standing there just on the edge of his vision, holding out a bloody pulsating drag-energist.

The sorcerer’s voice droned off to one side in zaibachi, detailing his vitals and likely any significant findings from the experiment and in the background, he could make out the sneering voice of the general, most likely casting some disparaging remark or other at Shroden. He sounded angry, but Van honestly didn’t have the energy to care.

There was the sound of a hand hitting flesh, a sharp cry of pain and then the repeated dull meaty thud and muffled screams of someone being beaten to a bloody pulp.

Seeing as how Salzar didn’t seem to be reacting at all to it, Van figured that it likely wasn’t Dilandau or Shroden being killed and really, those were the only deaths the king could bring himself to care about at this moment. Dimly, he was aware that that wasn’t a good thing, but his mind simply wasn’t focusing well enough to think about why that might be.

Thinking hurt, blinking hurt. Gods, even breathing hurt. He didn’t want to consider how agonizing walking back to his cell was going to be.

A sharp prick in his arm barely even made him twitch as Salzar injected him with something that made his veins burn a little. While it increased his discomfort... something he hadn’t thought possible, it did give him enough energy to be able to form some coherent thoughts. Not that his thoughts were overly helpful. They seemed to mostly focus around the concept of “OW!”

The bindings around his wrists and ankles were loosened and the one across his chest removed, allowing him to sit up. Learning from his previous lesson, he did so carefully, moving with deliberate caution, taking note of every injury and making sure that it wasn’t debilitating before causing himself undue agony.

Once again, his abdomen was killing him, though this time the incisions were on his lower right side and there was a neat line of stitches across his ribs. A smooth glistening gel covered the sutures at both sites and he knew better than to touch them.

How long would it be before they took something he couldn’t heal? Couldn’t replace or live without? Dilandau had explained that the first incision had been so they could take a piece of his liver. He’d stated that losing a little wouldn’t have any long term effects, something about the organ being able to regenerate. Van wasn’t sure he believed that. Body parts didn’t grow back once they were removed. He wasn’t a lizard-kin after all.

Not that it mattered. He was quickly coming to believe that they weren’t going to escape in one piece, especially at this rate. They were simply too well guarded.

Speaking of... said guards were now bodily hauling him to his feet and prodding him none too gently to begin moving. This of course had the marvellous effect of sending him crashing face first into the floor. The likelihood of having broken his nose was pretty high judging by the way pain seemed to blossom in his skull, but he hurt too much to care.

Someone grabbed his arm and nearly pulled it out of the socket as they viciously tried to yank him back to his feet, but Van just moaned softly, distantly noticing the smudges of blood his face left on the previously clean floor. Hah, take that sorcerers. Taste my bloody wrath!

There was a flurry of sharply spoken Basrami as people argued around him, then before he could sink back down to the floor and find peace, trembling arms slid beneath his and someone carefully hoisted him back up. He wanted to fight them and lay back down, but their grip was too strong and dimly, Van registered snowy white hair and equally pale skin. Great, Dilandau had him... course, after that twisted dream thingy, that might not be a good thing.

“You two need to stop ruining my toys.” Van murmured softly, his words slurring so badly that they were practically unintelligible. Crimson eyes glanced at him and a pale brow rose slightly in silent question. “She broke Mopsy.” He elaborated but that didn’t seem to help clarify anything for the albino who rolled his eyes slightly. They were dull, their usual shine missing and even in his exhausted state, Van could see the dark shadows hollowing them, giving the dragonslayer’s face an almost skull like appearance. He was also sporting a split lip and what looked like a bruise about to blossom on the side of his face. Someone had hit him, rather hard by the looks of it.

“You..ok? For once you don’t look good.” Likely not the most diplomatic thing to say, but Dilandau didn’t seem to have enough energy to care either way. Rather than roasting Van alive with some snide remark regarding his own no doubt less than pleasant appearance, he simply frowned and struggled to stand with Van’s weight weighing him down.

‘Come on and work with me on this.” He grumbled softly to the king. “Neither of us wants to be in here any longer than we have to be.” Dull crimson eyes glanced over in the direction of the looming guards, actually looking somewhat nervous for once. That likely didn’t bode well for either of them.

“I... I’m not sure I can.” The king admitted somewhat reluctantly, still struggling to manage to make the words come out clearly. “So... tired.”

“Lucky for us that you don’t get a choice in the matter.” There was the edge of steel to Dilandau’s voice, reminding van that the pale youth was first and foremost a soldier. “Get on your feet and start walking. If you can’t stand, crawl.”

Gritting his teeth hard enough that he was half expecting to hear them crack, the king took a deep breath and pulled his feet up beneath him, carefully shifting his balance in order to stand properly. The strong arm holding him steady helped considerably, but the room swayed dangerously around him and he was pretty sure he was about to throw up. The problem was, he didn’t know how to put this into words anymore. He felt utterly helpless as his stomach clenched, nausea tore through him and foul smelling liquid gushed from his lips. Numbly, he was aware of it splattering down the front of his shirt and likely coating a good portion of Dilandau’s arm and shoulder but thankfully, some god had decided to take pity on him and the albino didn’t kill him for the affront to his precious dignity. Either that or the dragonslayer was simply too exhausted to care.

The guards surrounding them laughed mockingly and he knew that they found his weakness amusing, but at least they kept their distance, giving the two teenagers room to stumble their way out of the labs.

One foot in front of the other, repeat until it became his entire world. Nothing existed beyond each step and the arms carefully holding him up. Still, his strength was well past it’s limits and so was Dilandau’s, forcing them to stop every few steps to lean against the wall and gather their strength. There, they would stay, trembling and panting, gulping in air like dying men as Van struggled not to throw up once more. It was always the dragonslayer who would be the first to push away, refusing to accept the growing weakness of their bodies and not allowing Van to fall behind.

The sudden rush of tepid water served to jolt a little awareness out of him, telling the king that he’d not only arrived in the cell, but was now under the water of the shower. This time, Dilandau hadn’t bothered taking off their clothes, deciding that they were too disgusting to be taken off. Better to wash the filth away and wait for them to dry than wear the vomit splattered rags.

Still, any cleaning they did was halfhearted. Neither had the strength to truly scrub themselves clean. Instead, they both stood there beneath the spray, propping each other up precariously until Dilandau finally dredged up the necessary motivation to turn off the water.

Somewhat revitalized, the dragonslayer wasted no time in quickly stripping the insensible Van of his clothes and hanging them across the bars to dry. The motions were then repeated with his own. The king barely stirred during the entire procedure and even when the albino carefully scooped away excess water from their bodies with his own hands, the darker teen didn’t so much as twitch. He had just enough energy to be led to the cot and helped down into a comfortable position, his deep brown eyes already closed.

Dilandau took a moment to examine the surgical wounds Van had received during this latest round, noting that his appendix had likely been taken as well as some bone samples from his ribs. Unpleasant, but not life threatening. Still, it went far to explain the king’s utter exhaustion.

Sparing a dark glare of loathing at the guards hovering by the door to their cell, the albino crawled onto the small cot as well, curling his body tightly against Van’s and wrapping the smaller youth in his arms protectively. The air was chill in their cell, but their combined body heat would keep them from catching a cold. Still, he really would have killed for a blanket, or at least some dry cloths to change into.

Giving the warm body in his arms a slight squeeze, Dilandau had the strangest impression of holding a bundle of rags shaped vaguely like a dragon. There was a sense of comfort in the touch, but there was an inexplicable ferocious stab of jealousy as well. Clearly his own mind was having trouble dealing with the stress they’d been under today because he had no idea why he’d care about a handful of trash.

Giving the king another gentle squeeze, his hand momentarily stroked through that dark rough tumble of hair as Dilandau treated himself to a few seconds of pretending that they weren’t there in their cage. That they were far away, safe from their enemies and “allies”, with no one to worry about but themselves. It was a silly childish dream, but it helped him forget the deep despair and exhaustion which threatened to crush him with every passing moment.

Closing his eyes, the allowed himself to relax slightly, listening to the sounds of Van’s slow deep breathing and the irritable grumblings of Kamata in the neighbouring cage. Glancing over his shoulder at the dragon, he could just make out two surly golden eyes glaring at them at the edge of his vision.

“Watch over us Little Brother.” He murmured softly. The dragon huffed in response and turned away. Unable to help himself, Dilandau gave a soft chuckle and allowed oblivion to overtake him.

 

When Van awoke several hours later for his meal, he was alone in the cell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah... Odd and ominous. What's going on with our dastardly duo and why is this happening? Do the dreams mean anything? Is it just some strange way to make them get along? Celena really isn't a people person... she's got some serious issues really.
> 
> This chapter was actually going to be way way darker, but I decided that I'd been mean enough to these poor guys. They didn't need me venting on them. Still, even cute fluffy scenes seem to involve blood filled toys...
> 
> For an amusing pic of the naming of Kamata, check this out.   
> https://nehasy.deviantart.com/art/No-family-is-perfect-713101713?ga_submit_new=10%3A1509679335
> 
> Next chapter: Van realizes that if they don't do something soon, they're never escaping.


	8. Ultimatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The jaws of the trap begins to close around Van and Dilandau and Allen makes a shocking discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, let's hear it for being unemployed during NaNoWriMo with crappy weather!! It certainly gives me time to write. Seriously, we seemed to have skipped November and December, heading straight into January. Gotta say, I'm not impressed.   
> Here's another chapter for you all! Thank you everyone who's slogged through these dark and nasty evil chapters of doom, your wait is almost over! Soon there will be action and adventure in vast quantities!! Yay!
> 
> also, I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or it's characters, but I'm pretty sure you all knew that already.

The hand felt like ice as it traced along his spine, causing the pale youth to cringe deep inside his mind even as his body arched beneath the touch like a spoiled cat, drinking in every moment of contact. _No, no... no more._ He was going to start screaming soon if he wasn’t left alone _._ Everything ached inside and out and his body screamed for rest, for a chance to recover from the abuses it had suffered.

Sharp nails dug into the palms of his hands hard enough to draw blood as he struggled against himself, wanting to pull away, to throw himself across the room and gouge out his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to look at that disgusting hated face any longer. The face of his god, his Master... the face he adored with every fibre of his being.

“Stop that.” A sharp voice commanded, cutting to the very core of his brain like a hot knife with butter. “If I wished to see you bleed, I’d have allowed that fool of a general to take you for his petty amusements. You will remain unmarked by all hands save for mine.”

His fingers relaxed instantly as if his body was no longer under his own command causing that familiar mix of blind rage and soul rending disgust welled up inside him once again. There was no need to look over at the face of his Master to know that the man was watching him, drinking in his discomfiture no matter how desperately he hid it.

“A little late for that isn’t it?” Dilandau couldn’t quite keep from sneering, pushing the boundaries of his Master’s control even as he lay there on the bed, utterly docile. It was something he’d never done before, at least not that he could remember and the very act of doing so made him almost giddy with delight. It felt so deliciously forbidden, like breaking orders so he could burn a village or slaughtering a prized captive, and he couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation of a reaction. Would he be whipped? Beaten? Given to someone he loathed? His Master was as creative as he was vile but that wasn’t enough to stop the albino’s rebellion.

“You just stood there and let that fat self indulgent moron hit me.” Crimson eyes narrowed slightly in challenge, watching the madoushi through lowered snowy white lashes. “You’re nothing but that fool’s pet dog as much as I am yours.”

The hand never paused in stroking him, the pressure against his skin never changed and inwardly he cringed at this utter lack of reaction. One would think that he’d be used to these games after all these years, but his Master always managed to catch him wrong footed.

“He has no understanding of what you are.” The cadaverously thin man finally spoke, his voice cool and almost disinterested. It sounded as if he was simply talking to himself rather than the youth laying next to him. “Tseng is but a fool looking at a masterpiece and seeing nothing beyond the basic form and function. There is no understanding in a man such as that.” The bony hand trailed up the youth’s spine until his fingers tangled in sweat dampened silvery white hair. With a sharp motion, they tightened and twisted, forcing the slender teen to arch his back sharply, nearly bending himself in half in order to release the pressure as the Madoushi forced him to meet his gaze.

Dilandau didn’t fight the hold, he moved as expected, his eyes obediently locking on those of his master, but that’s where the submission stopped. That crimson glare burned with barely suppressed rage and defiance, warning that the slightest slip, the merest moment of inattention could prove fatal.

In turn, the cold grey eyes he stared into were calculating chunks of ice, revealing nothing of the mind behind them. There were no emotions shining in their depths, despite the forbidden rebellion. It unnerved the young Dragonslayer more than any display of rage ever could.

“Do you think that I’m not aware that you’re behind the tests failures?” The question sounded innocent, almost clinical in it’s curiosity but the threat was evident to the albino and he cringed despite his previous bold words.

Without a flicker of so much as an eyelash, Shroden’s free hand began lightly tracing the many near invisible scars which marked alabaster white flesh, reminding the youth of the ghosts of his past agonies. A soft whimper of dread crawled it’s way past Dilandau’s lips, but he didn’t pull away, didn’t fight in the least. His body remained bent at that impossible angle despite his spine screaming in agony at the contortion.

“Did you think that I would not notice the energy fluctuations? That I would not understand you down to your very cells? Did you not think that your little rebellion was not expected and planned for?” The faintest hint of amusement coloured that cold voice, lending layers of menace to his words.

“I won’t let you make more like me.” Dilandau forced the words past lips numbed with terror, though his eyes held his Master’s gaze unwaveringly. “More children for you to torture and twist into creatures like me? I’ll see them dead first, in fact, I’ll revel in killing each and every one of them.”

The fingers continued to trace along his scars while the other hand held him in place with the utmost confidence that no effort would be made to break away from his grip. Defiance only went so far after all.

“Let?” Shroden scoffed in amusement. “Your desires mean nothing to me 35, never forget that every breath you draw is at MY sufferance. You have no more control over my experiments than a knife or syringe. You’re a tool and nothing more. Somehow you have deluded yourself into believing that you were capable of making a decision without my authorization. What an amusing concept. Truly we have allowed you to run wild for too long. You’ve grown foolish in your freedom.” The hand drifted lower, idly stroking silken skin as one might with a pet. “This is of course the fault of you having anchored with that beast boy.” The sorcerer mused to himself, ignoring the soft whimpers from the slender form pressed against him. “Once the experiments are over and I produce another such as you, I will of course eliminate this little source of your rebellion once and for all.” A smile which was little more than a knife slash across the thin skin of his cadaverous face made Dilandau shiver in undisguised dread and he longed to pull away and deny the words, but could do neither. This was no bluff, he knew that the madoushi wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who stood between him and utter domination over Dilandau. He’d done it twice before after all. “Once he’s no longer necessary, he’ll be eliminated and this foolishness will be purged from your mind forever.”

Shroden sighed indulgently, his roaming hands growing more forceful, leaving tender bruises in their wake.

“Yes, your time as a warrior is at an end, your instability on the battlefield has been proven. Once your replacements are ready, I will wipe your mind completely, removing all of this foolish individuality. There is little need for it anymore after all and I grow weary of slaughtering your suitors. Though I must admit, your anguish over their deaths is exquisite.”

“I hate you.” The words were little more than a whisper, so soft that they were barely audible, but they’d still been spoken, still passed those plump pale lips.

“More foolishness.” Shroden scoffed in the mildest of amused tones. “You’re incapable of hating me. I’m your god, your sun, the very air you breathe. I’ve written my name across every inch of your DNA and made you mine on so many levels that even once you pass from this world, I will be able to call your shade back to kneel at my feet. You will do this gladly, thanking me with every ounce of your existence.

“Even now, you body begs for my touch and my attention. You are nothing without me and you know that despite whatever foolishness you speak.” As if to demonstrate, Shroden pulled his hand away from Dilandau, going so far as to even release the grip he had on his hair. The dragonslayer was left in a state of shock at the unexpected loss of physical contact. Nerves, already made hyper aware by the proximity of his tormentor practically quivered and ached for the soothing touches to return.

The slender body trembled, held on the knife edge of need as his mind warred with itself, wanting to pull away, to seize this temporary respite for all that it was worth while the other half yearned for more, for that perfect sense of belonging and validation which only came from the touch of his anchor. He ached for it fiercely, was starving for it with every fibre of his being.

He didn’t have the energy to fight it. Emotionally, physically, he was simply too worn out to battle against the needs implanted in his soul from so long ago. Hating himself deeply, his body pressed against the gaunt form of the Madoushi, his hands sliding across pale sallow flesh, desperate to please and shameless in his need.

The games he’d played with Van were just that, games and they did little more than wet his appetite. Only his master could ease the maddening ache inside him and it was time that he accepted that... welcomed it.

Shroden merely laid back, permitting the youth to pleasure him and despite his previous harsh words, he used every bit of hard won skill to elicit a reaction from the cold stoic man.

“Do you see how pathetic you are my pet?” The madoushi smirked, refusing to give the youth any sign that his enthusiastic ministrations were having any sort of effect. “You play at defiance and rebellion, but in the end, you’re nothing that I do not wish you to be. The instant I do not find your paltry attempts at intractability to be amusing, I will crush you utterly.”

“Yes Master.” Murmured softly, inwardly cringing in dread at the words, knowing that he was being smothered by the cruel game. Long bony fingers stroked through his hair, smoothing away tangles and soothing his now sore scalp as they inexorably guided his head towards the madoushi’s now stirring flesh. Dilandau didn’t resist, he knew what was expected of him and took comfort in the familiar routine.

For several long minutes he was able to lose himself in the acts expected of him, allowing the broken and beaten part of himself to reign free to revel in his debasement, desperate to please his Master who seemed determined to make that a near impossible task. He knew the man’s body better than his own and had been well versed in what his Master enjoyed, but just as he felt the man’s iron clad control begin to slip, he was pulled sharply away. Those cold flat grey eyes staring into his once more.

“Why did you allow two subjects to survive the experiment?” Most people would have been confused at the sudden question, especially when Shroden’s mind should have been on other things, but Dilandau knew his Master’s obsessions well. There was never a time where he wasn’t analyzing every minute details, turning them over in his mind until he’d puzzled out every tiny mystery. It’s what made the Madoushi so brilliant and difficult to manipulate. He only had one care, one passion and Dilandau knew that he was merely a piece of it. Useful, still hiding mysteries yet to be explored, but no longer the focus.

“A mere chance of fate Master.” He replied easily, pretending to occupy his attention with his Master ’s body in an attempt to cover up the lie. “I didn’t have time to kill them all.” It was a childish attempt at falsehood and he knew that it had failed even before the words had left his lips.

“Yes, it seems that many lessons have been forgotten. Have the punishments been forgotten as well?” There was no anger in the Madoushi’s voice, no hint of any emotion but Dilandau all but collapsed on the bed in utter dread. His mind called up images of a small dark room, screaming at a door that would never open, begging for people who would never come. “I have made several advances in sensory deprivation since your last punishment 35.” Shroden mused idly, as if unaware of the terror which had taken over the albino youth, causing his normally shining white skin to grow dull and grey. “Now, we administer a drug to numb your body and suspend you in a room of warm water. You breathe through a tube inserted into your lungs and simply float there for hours. There is no light, no sound, no touch. The water is kept at the exact temperature as your body and to the best of your awareness, you simply cease to exist.”

Dilandau trembled despite himself, loathing his cowardice almost as much as he hated how the words seemed to further arouse his Master.

“Our test subjects begin to experience vivid hallucinations within the hour. Within a few hours, they show clear signs of mental degradation. You lay there in nothingness, unable to control even the simplest of body functions, unable to even feel your own flesh. It’s an almost perfect recreation of what you experience when you fight against your bond. Imagine hours of being trapped in that void...” His voice trailed off almost dreamily as his hand reached out to encircle Dilandau, pulling him closer, pressing trembling and clammy flesh against his own. “How compliant you’d be after such an experience. I could take you apart and you’d beg me for more wouldn’t you.” It was impossible for Dilandau to reply, the words dried up in his throat and his lungs seemed to be squeezing shut. He offered no resistance as he was pinned beneath the weight of his Master, his mind already half trapped in that hellish nothingness.

“Why did you spare the experiments. You wish their deaths, you’ve made that clear, so why allow them to live when you could end it. Why allow one to be so successful?”

“Van....” Dilandau ground out the name, unable to disobey or lie. The chains of his terror were too tight and he knew that Shroden would be all too eager to introduce him to that dark water filled tank. “One of them was Fanelian... recognized him... I heard him... If he’d died... it would have hurt Van.” He licked his lips nervously, desperate to earn his Master’s approval but unsure of what to say. “I... I don’t know what I did... I just... I just knew that if he died, Van would be upset.”

“And it matters to you if Vessel 02 is upset?” Cold eyes narrowed dangerously and Dilandau squirmed slightly, attempting to free himself from the pin, but his efforts were to no avail.

“No! Of course not!” He protested quickly, honestly unsure why it had mattered at the time or why he’d wanted to please someone he barely tolerated. It made no sense, but he’d still done it and strangely, he didn’t regret the action. Thankfully, Shroden appeared to let the matter drop. Hardly surprising really. They were both firmly in his power and a hold he choose, he could kill the fanelian king at a moment’s notice. There was no reason for him to become jealous... at least that was Dilandau’s desperate hope.

“So you not only spared a test subject, but ensured that it would live. Growing strong and healthy. I suppose I should thank you, it’s showing signs of becoming a rather striking specimen. Once its period of stasis is complete and its body fully settles, I will look forward to exploring its... limits. Perhaps I’ll even study how the two of you interact. I’m sure it would be most fascinating.” Dilandau didn’t dare shudder in disgust at the prospect though he felt nothing but revulsion at the idea. “Pity it only possesses a fraction of your level of Fate Particles. It will make a fine specimen but not an Eidolon, that should aid in keeping you killing instincts at bay.” The knowledge did little to lessen the disgust Dilandau felt over having made the admittance especially with the knowledge that he’d put Van in further danger.

“And the other one? A first attempt perhaps? It’s less formed than the other. The blending wasn’t complete.”

“I was going to kill it, Van stopped me... I didn’t lie to you Master.”

“Then be thankful it appears to be capable of surviving outside of the puparium. It is of course useless towards the final project though I am most curious to see how its organs react to various strains and tests. What interesting mysteries might be gleaned from it’s cells? Yes, it will make a most fascinating subject in this regard.”

Hands slid possessively down Dilandau’s body and he arched up into the touch,. It was loathsome, glorious, and it sparked a vile heat deep within his core, making him moan softly in need. Yes, he needed this, was desperate for it... he’d die without his Master’s touch. The thoughts whispered like poison in the back of his mind, drifting out of the same mental darkness as the screams and the terrible overwhelming sense of isolation. Only his Master could make it better, only his Master could make him whole...

Obediently he opened himself up to his Master, wanting desperately to turn away, to not look into that hated face hovering above him, not wanting to see that possessive light in those dead eyes, or the gloating smile which tugged at those thin bloodless lips. Looking away was impossible. His Master enjoyed looking into his eyes as he was taken, drawing pleasure from whatever he saw in those crimson depths, and Dilandau could deny Shroden nothing.

“Mmmm” Shroden murmured in amusement, thrilled as always by the reluctant surrender of his pet, loving how he struggled so desperately against himself as he was breached. The boy never seemed to understand that he couldn’t win this battle. He’d been doomed the instant he’d taken his first breath and since then, every thought, desire and sensation had been all according to Shroden’s design.

He was more than a mere scientist, more than a sorcerer. He was an artist, unparalleled on the face of the planet, and this beautiful defiant boy was his ultimate canvas.

“Show me what you’re truly good for.” He murmured at the trembling form beneath him, spread out like a glorious sacrifice. Loathing himself utterly for his surrender, Dilandau obeyed.

 

 

Van was frantic when the cell door finally opened and Dilandau stepped through. One side of his face still bore the darkening bruises form earlier, though it had already faded significantly and the split lip was little more than a faint swelling now. Clearly the Madoushi had worked some sort of magic on the pale youth, not that Van was complaining. Currently he was more focused on either hugging or punching the errant slayer and he barely held himself in check as he waited for the guards to sneer a few choice phases at their prisoners before retreating back to their posts. For once, Dilandau made no attempt to incite them. Instead, he simply walked calmly towards the shower and began to strip, not caring if Van was watching or not.

Unable to sit still and pretend ambivalence any longer, the young king strode over to him, trying to catch that crimson gaze.

“I was worried sick!” He hissed softly, doing his best to keep his voice down, but it was hard. “What happened? I woke up and you were gone!”

If anything, his absence seemed to have done wonders for the albino. His skin looked better, more lustrous and the last shadows of the bruises from all of his previous beatings had faded away to nothingness. Even his hair seemed to have regained it’s usual shine, falling like snow white silk edged in silver gilt down to lightly brush his shoulders.

“We need to get out of here.” Dilandau growled softly at him, using the wolf-kin language as an added precaution despite their lowered voices.

“Just figured that out did you?” It was impossible not to get the little jab in, Van blamed habit more than any maliciousness on his part. At least Dilandau didn’t look to be overly upset, he merely flashed Van a somewhat snide look for continuing to speak in astorian as he pulled his shirt free and hung it on the bars, then pulled at his trousers.

“Shroden plans to kill you once the experiments are a success.” Even though the dark king had pretty much guessed this already, hearing it stated as fact was no less unnerving and Van couldn’t quite help the sudden sickening twist that tore through his guts.

“Well....” He hunted for words of encouragement, finding that he suddenly needed to hear something emboldening. “At least they’re failing so far... we have time to plan something out.” The albino shook his head, sliding his pants free and hanging them with the shirt. He then turned towards the shower and quickly turned the water on, stepping beneath it as if he couldn’t wait to get clean.

Van opened his mouth to make take some jabs at the nearly paranoid level of hygiene the zaibachi teen indulged in when he saw the bruises. They dotted his hips and thighs, several of them quite dark and spaced perfectly to be made by someone’s fingers. He might be innocent to a lot of things, but he knew damn well what bruises like that meant, and suddenly Dilandau’s desperate desire to be clean took on a new and terrible light.

For a moment, words failed him and he opened and closed his mouth without sound as his mind struggled to catch up to what his eyes were seeing. After several aborted attempts, he managed to ground out a pained sound.

“Who?” Dilandau didn’t pause in his washing as he glanced over his shoulder at Van, a look of irritated exasperation on his face.

“Shroden.” He stated, the name devoid of any emotional inflection. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not important.”

“Not important!?!? He ...he...” Van couldn’t even bring himself to say the words, horror kept choking up his voice. Sure, he’d known about the sick relationship Dilandau had with the sorcerer, but he hadn’t expected to see the results... to have to deal with the reality of it all.

“He’s been fucking me since I was five. It wasn’t important then, it’s not important now. What matters is if you’re going to be like Gaddes and stare at me like I’m some disgusting broken thing or not.” As he spoke, Dilandau turned to fully face him, rage and defiance flaring in his eyes, barely covering the naked fear in their depths. The dragonslayer was terrified of another rejection, of losing the only ally and companion he had in this nightmare. He was glad that the shower his the trembling of his limbs. There was no way he was going to show weakness the way he had with Gaddes. The wound to his pride still bled from that night and he wasn’t about to open himself up to it again. Either Van accepted him as he was, or he’d find a way out of this mess on his own. Fuck fate and destiny. He was sick of getting kicked in the teeth for what he couldn’t control.

It was a struggle for Van to pull his gaze away from those bruises and look Dilandau in the eyes. He could feel the heat and the weight of that terrible gaze and knew that he’d damn well better pick his next words very carefully. Gaddes clearly hadn’t and the king had seen what that had done to Dilandau. Here was a person who’d had his heart torn out too many times, who’d known nothing of trust and loyalty from those he didn’t utterly control. In fact, this was likely the last shot anyone was ever going to have to get the fierce captain to trust another living being.

Reaching out, Van ignored the tepid spray of the water soaking his arm and gently placed his hand on Dilandau’s shoulder. Belatedly, he remembered that people who’d been assaulted probably didn’t like being touched, but well... the albino seemed to be taking what had happened as normal behaviour and had always been comforted by physical contact. Thankfully, this proved to be the case once again and rather than pulling violently away, the dragonslayer simply gave Van a somewhat curious look.

“I promised you that I’d kill that bastard and I meant it.” He said. Something told him that pity wasn’t going to do anything but alienate the albino, the same with a rant on how horrible this all was. Inwardly, he was screaming and tearing out his hair, but he refused to let any of that show. Dilandau was a warrior after all, the last thing he needed or wanted was to be turned into a victim.

It seemed to have been the right decision because the dragonslayer favoured him with a grateful smile, his posture growing more relaxed as he turned back to fishing his shower, making no attempt to remove the hand from his shoulder.

Van looked at the point of contact for a moment, debating on pulling it away, after all, his arm was getting soaked, as was the sleeve of his shirt, but in the end, he decided to keep his hand where it was. Dilandau wasn’t objecting and really, it was making him feel better as well. Words couldn’t adequately describe how panicked he’d felt to wake up cold and alone on the cot, having no idea if the dragonslayer was alive or dead. The guards hadn’t been any help, they’d simply laughed at his dread and pretended to not understand his broken attempts at communication.

“So...” He made sure he was speaking wolf-kin this time, feeling the gravity of the situation more clearly now. While suddenly changing the topic made him feel callous, it was likely the best decision. “Something changed? Was not working... now work? How?”

Nodding his had slightly at Van’s words, he could feel the shoulder beneath his hand tense and knew that this was going to be bad... which was impressive really considering he’d just been told that his days were numbered. How much worse could things get?

“Shroden knows I did something to the test subjects... that I killed them.” All Van could do was give the shoulder a slight reassuring squeeze, urging Dilandau to continue. “I... He ordered me to not kill anymore of them. The success rate is going to grow quickly now.”

Shutting off the water with savage motions, Dilandau spun around and stared at Van, their faces less than an inch apart and for one unguarded moment, he could see the pure anguish in those crimson eyes.

“I don’t know what I did Van!” Strong fingers grabbed onto his arms as the pale teen tried to center himself and regain his lost emotional control. “I don’t remember what happens when he hooks me up to that damn machine. I... I think I remember seeing flowers, and a strange room filled with colourful trash... You’re there in both... but ugh! I don’t know what I did so how can I not do it?!”

Stepping away, Dilandau grabbed his shirt, using it as a towel to dry off the worst of the wetness before hanging it back up on the bars to dry and tugging on his trousers.

“I want to kill them. They trained us to kill each other, it was fucking encouraged! Now I’m supposed to make more? This is stupid!” In a sudden burst of fury, Dilandau struck out, hitting the bars of the cage with the palm of his hand, eliciting a low growl of warning from the dragon. “Yeah, bring it on scaleface!” The dragonslayer snarled at the lizard, slamming his hand against the bars a second time, causing the beast to hurl itself at the cage walls, it’s large jaws snapping viciously.

“Stop bullying the dragon Dilandau.” Van sounded about as exasperated as he felt and he boldly took the slayers arm in his, guiding the surly youth towards the cot, urging him to sit in a rather unsubtle manner. Alright, he pushed the stubborn git down and glared at him murderously until the albino stayed put.

“I can’t exactly tell you what you did to kill those... things.” He couldn’t call them children, couldn’t humanize them. What they’d been turned into stripped them of that identity, leaving death the only mercy left. If he thought of it any other way, he’d go mad... madder. “It’s all... symbolism and strange dream stuff.”

That seemed to catch Dilandau’s attention and he perked up visibly, fixing Van with wide eager eyes.

“You were actually there? You were in my head?” Most people would have been upset by that, or at least vaguely disturbed. Of course Dilandau had to be the complete opposite. Granted, he was already sharing brain space with Celena and they both likely enjoyed the company.

“Yeah,” Van admitted cautiously, still feeling as if he was likely overstepping some sort of personal boundary. “Or you were in mine... I’m not sure which.” He took a deep breath and glanced around for any nearby guards, not wanting them to overhear and fully aware that speaking the beast language wasn’t going to properly convey what he had to say. He just wasn’t fluent enough with it. Astorian would have to do.

“First I was in a nightmare... a battlefield filled with the dead, and strange draconians were circling overhead. Then Celena guided me to a tree. I’ve been to that tree before, it was on the Paths of the Dead... I watched Atlantis burn.”

“Alright, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Only you would say that.” Van couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face as he sat down next to Dilandau and leaned back against the bars. After a moment, the dragonslayer joined him and the two sat there shoulder to shoulder.

“You were sitting beneath the tree surrounded by flowers...”

“Ok, your dream got stupid.”

“You were trying to pick flowers.”

“Your brain is clearly broken. Can’t you dream normal things... like sex or a good battle?” Van lightly swatted the albino’s shoulder and ignored the interruption.

“You were trying to pick flowers,” He repeated patiently. “But you killed them whenever you touched them. It was really creepy, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself. We talked a bit and I made you stop killing them. I didn’t know that they were actually the test subjects... I sort of figured that one out later... Anyway, after we talked, you said you forgave me for scarring you, and you wound two flowers together to make a new one and said that I was supposed to take care of it.”

“Why is everyone determined to make me act like a girl?” Dilandau huffed loudly. “First Allen and that stupid dress, now you and flowers... ugh. You’re all sick.”

Van paused, swallowing what he was about to say as he couldn’t quite keep the image of the fierce and indomitable albino in a pretty pink frilly dress out of his head.

“Stop picturing it.”

“I... I wasn’t!”

“Sick.”

“Well in the next dream we were in my nursery and you were playing with my toys.”

“Have I told you how much I hate your brain?”

“Many times.” Van flashed Dilandau a sickeningly sweet smile. “Usually when I point out something logical”

“So what, I set your toys on fire or something?” It would have been nice if the dragonslayer had looked at all repentant. Instead, he just appeared to be smugly amused.

“No... you just threw a bunch of my stuff around. Books mostly. Celena was the one who did... pretty horrible things to my toys.”

“That’s my girl.” Another swat on the shoulder, another snicker.

“I’m guessing that maybe you tossing my books away was you killing the test subjects... that’s really all you did... other than... er...” Sighing, Van stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to remember the feel of his mother’s soft flesh crumbling in his hands. “You... you killed my mother.”

“....oh... oops?”

“Oops?” Van’s eyes narrowed as he shifted enough to be able to glare properly at the dragonslayer. “You killed my mom and all you can say is oops?”

“Well... it’s not like she was your real mom right? I mean... I didn’t kill you r real mom. Was she in Fanelia that day?” All Van could do was sigh and resist the urge to snap at Dilandau. He had a rather strong feeling that he wasn’t intentionally trying to be an utter insensitive ass. Expecting the pale youth to feel ashamed of his actions or even may the gods forbid... guilty was likely an impossible venture and really, Van simply didn’t have it in him to try. It had just been a dream... a disturbing one which somehow they’d shared, but that was it. His mother had been a sad memory long before Dilandau had ever burned his way across Van’s path.

“No... my mother vanished years ago... When Folken disappeared, she left to find him...”

“She abandoned you.” Van glanced up in surprise at the bitterness in that silken voice. “She didn’t believe Folken was dead, so she left you... her child to go find him.” The words echoed what had been said in that dream. Spiteful, jealous and filled with the pain of someone who knew how much it hurt to be torn from his family... to be abandoned. “She chose him over you and left you with nothing but the weight of a kingdom on your back... but you still love her. Why?”

Crimson eyes looked over at him, curious.

“She’s my mother.” Van stated with a shrug, unable to articulate that pure and uncompromising love. “Nothing will ever change that.” Those strange eyes studied him for a long moment in thoughtful silence, trying to understand something so uncompromising and mysterious.

“... I never knew my mother.” He finally said, his eyes lowering to stare down at the feather hanging from his neck. “I didn’t even know I had one until a colour ago...It still doesn’t feel real.”

“She’d have loved you.”

“Don’t patronize me Van. She loved Celena, but it was an empty love. We both realize that. Encia Schezar chose to fade away rather than find her daughter. Even Allen ended up sitting back and doing nothing. Blood is highly overrated and is little more than an excuse for irrational behaviour.”

“Encia’s heart broke when Celena was taken. Everyone deals with grief their own way Dilandau but that doesn’t lessen it. As for Allen, he was just a child.”

“What kind of excuse is that?”

“He was only eleven. What would you have him do?”

“At eleven I was leading armies.”

“Then you need to accept the fact that Allen isn’t as awesome as you are.” That gave the albino pause and he blinked a few times in surprise before shifting to look at Van, silvery brows raising as he mentally went over what was said a few times, clearly savouring the words.

“It’s about time someone admitted it.” Dilandau smirked, broken out of his spiral by the praise. “I mean honestly, he’s what, almost twenty two? What does he have to show for it? That ugly fort under his command is nothing but smelly ash-”

“Thanks to you.”

“People still sneer at him in court despite him being a war hero and Knight Caeli. He rides around in a crappy leviship and antique armour. Worse, he dresses like a drunk woman.”

“You do realize that leviships are insanely expensive right? And Scherezade is part of the Schezar legacy. Technically it’s as much yours as his.”

“Ugh, Like I’d want that hunk of junk. It doesn’t even have flamethrowers. I’ll keep my beautiful Oreades thank you very much.” This time Van couldn’t keep from chuckling at how much happier Dilandau sounded. It figured that cutting down his brother would perk up the albino. Actually, it was rather nice just sitting here talking like two normal teenagers... well, as normal as they were going to get. Van felt that he could almost forget the situation they were in, or the bars surrounding them and pretend that they were back on top of the palace joking about stealing flags.

“What about the clothes?” The king reached over and lightly tugged at the rough material that made up Dilandau’s trousers. “Are you ready to dress in lace and silk. Puffed sleeves would look lovely on you. You could pretend that you actually had broad shoulders.”

“Screw you Fanel, you’re the string bean out of the two of us.”

“Oh please, just because I’m shorter doesn’t make me scrawny or weaker than you.”

“Really? So you weren’t panting your way through the exercises I gave you? Is shedding copious amounts of water some mystical draconian power then?”

“Seriously? I wasn’t used to those kinds of exercises. Give me two weeks and I’ll be running your scrawny butt into the ground.” Now Dilandau was openly grinning at him, playful challenge shining in his eyes.

“Hmmm and what sort of exercise were you used to?” Innuendo dripped from his every word but Van chose to be the better person and ignore it.

“Well, normally my exercise consisted of running away from some fire spewing psycho.”

“That sounds like fun! We should try it sometime! Though I’ve heard that actually fighting said psycho’s are much better for a good hard round of cardio.” The grin grew wider. “Now that I’m not in the middle of a constant nervous breakdown, I think a good one on one sparring match would be a blast.”

“I thought you hated my armour.”

“I do.” Dilandau sniffed imperiously, once again making it clear that he was stating the painfully obvious. “I hate it with every fibre of my being which is why I want to fight it.” He glanced at Van out of the corner of his eye, his bold smile turning almost shy though much more honest. “I don’t like losing... you might have noticed that.”

“It has come to my attention, yes.” Van kept his tone carefully guarded. This was dangerous ground after all, but Dilandau didn’t seem to have that manic edge to him at the moment. He seemed actually eerily calm considering everything that had happened.

“It bothers me... not knowing who the better pilot is.” The captain murmured softly. “I know your armour isn’t natural, that much is obvious, so I suppose that I’ll always consider you to be cheating on some level, but... I always won against you in the beginning. It was only once Folken started screwing with his Fate Engine that I started losing.”

“You fought me fifteen to one!”

“Oh please, it was usually only six to one.” Dilandau couldn’t help but correct him with a smile. “And I fought you one on one several times without a problem.”

“Astoria being set on fire counts as a problem to most people.”

“It was an ugly district. The important thing was that I was winning.”

“Just keep telling yourself that.”

“Most people don’t run away from battles when they’re winning Van. You might want to read over some strategy books one day. You might even find some with pictures. That would help wouldn’t it?”

“I beat you out of our guymelef too. Remember that?” He couldn’t resist goading the pale youth and was thankful that for the first time ever, Dilandau didn’t immediately begin stroking his scarred cheek and start gibbering for his blood. Instead, the dragonslayer simply chuckled softly.

“When we get back to Astoria, remind me to show you my medical report from that day. You get blown across a hangar by demon armour and then tell me how well you’d fight. Still, you’re right, that’s no excuse. I should have won.” Grinning, Dilandau deliberately reached over and traced a line with his fingertip down Van’s right cheek.

“Maybe I’ll give you a matching scar as a memento.”

“Maybe I’ll make your face more symmetrical.”

“Oh Van, I’d still be prettier than you.”

Van opened his mouth to argue that point then gave a soft defeated chuckle as he returned Dilandau’s grin.

“Yeah.. you would.” It was then that he realized that Dilandau was still touching his cheek, the touch was gentle, but he could feel the heat radiating out from that single point of contact and energy seemed to sizzle down his spine in a rather delightful fashion. They were so close, the entire length of their bodies gently touching, their heads close enough to share breaths. It was deeply intimate and Van found himself desperately wishing that they were anywhere but in a cell in Basram.

 

 

No matter how many ways Allen looked at them, the reports simply weren’t adding up. Worse, they seemed to be making a determined effort to obfuscate the one sliver of information he so desperately needed to find.

He’d been pouring over the papers for hours today and didn’t even want to think about how long he’d stared at them yesterday. A somewhat battered quill was pressed between his fingers, it’s tip had been rather thoroughly nibbled on. It was a terrible habit he’d once had as a child and had subsequently outgrown... at least he thought he had. Clearly the stress of the situation was getting to him.

Three weeks. Three weeks with nothing to show for their efforts aside from ghosts. So far there were two promising leads in regards to ships which might have ferried the two teenagers away. One was a supply ship bound for Caesario which had left early that same morning only to never arrive at it’s destination. Neither the crew nor the ship have been seen since. While leviship piracy was always a danger, especially in this post war era, the timing was more than a little suspicious.

The second possibility was a ship bearing false cargo to an equally fake destination. At least this one had been accounted for... eventually. It had naturally been seized the instant it had returned, nearly a week and half later, its hold empty and manned by a skeleton crew. The pilot had insisted that he’d been instructed to simply fly over to Zaibach and inspect one of their now defunct factories to ensure that there were no large scale building projects taking place. Of course, the pilot has no actual mandate from the crown nor authority to conduct such an inspection. Something the overseer of said plant was quick to point out.

He had been given a brief tour, just enough to prove that yes, the factory was indeed dead. Its great machines had already been stripped of vital gears and energist. What remained had been left to moulder in darkness, much like the people themselves.

Subsequent conversations with Lord Vereth had yielded nothing. The man was an idiot and had stated that it was simply a mix up with the logs. That he’d planned on having his wife enjoy a tour of their family lands but her sudden decline in health had prompted him to change his itinerary at the last minute.

When questioned about why he’d chosen to cross into Zaibach territory and demand access to factories, he’d cited a dream in which he’d seen Zaibach rise up once more to conquer Gaea. Few believed his claims of course. The man was no seer and popular theory was that that he’d simply sent the airship over to scavenge for any remaining wealth he could plunder. It was disgusting that all he’d received for falsifying logs and pillaging the already ravaged land was a fine of five hundred gidaru. As added insult, the fine was more from falsifying the logs than their treatment of Zaibach. The pilot ended up suffering the worst for his part in the debacle, being stripped of his flight licence permanently and fined a hundred gidaru. The man was ruined both professionally and financially.

The Crusade crew were currently attempting to track down said former pilot, interested to hear about any other details which might have slipped the man’s mind during the official inquest. Unfortunately, Allen was rather sure they wouldn’t find him anytime soon... at least not among the living. If this was indeed all part of some grand cover up, the perpetrators would be quick to cover their tracks.

Honestly, it sickened Allen to his stomach, but there was little he could do. His own attempts to speak to the lord had yielded little more than snide sneers from his peers. It seemed that suddenly surprising the court with a zaibach warlord as a sibling hadn’t done wonders for his reputation. In fact, he’d heard more than one whispered conversation hinting at the possibility of shaky loyalties during the war. After all, how often had he fought the crimson guymelef to a standstill?

It didn’t seem to matter to them how Dilandau had nearly cut him in half on the border of Freid, or the damage he’d done to Sherezade during the battle at Rampant. The fools at court only saw what they wanted to see, and currently, all they wanted to see were two brothers secretly colluding with each other.

A soft knock on his door pulled him out of his dark thoughts and he quickly pulled the tip of his quill feather out of his mouth, nearly snapping it in half in his haste.

“Enter.” At least he sounded calm and composed. Not at all like he was seriously tempted to just set all of the papers on his desk on fire and dance around his desk cackling like a certain unnamed sibling.

He’d been expecting Gaddes with another progress report on the Alseides pilots training, or coming to complain incessantly about how slowly everything was going. The man seemed even more impatient than Allen to retrieve Dilandau and Van, though it was obvious that his focus was on the former. That coupled with how uncomfortable the sergeant acted around him lately was more than a little unnerving. It made the knight wonder as to just what sort of friendship the crewman had struck up with the dragonslayer. Of course, he always felt bad immediately after thinking that. After all, Gaddes was a true and trusted friend... but Dilandau was a manipulative little beast when he wanted to be, and Allen would be lying if he didn’t admit that his sibling was easily one of the most beautiful people at court. If it wasn’t for the teens terrible reputation and taboo preferences, he’d likely be fending off a small army of suitors. Granted, from the sounds of it, he still had a few would be paramours in the wings... and one of them was now walking through his door.

He still wasn’t entirely comfortable around the young lord Falafell, and it looked as if the feelings were reciprocated. Still, aside from the boy’s lineage and obvious adoration of Dilandau, there was little the knight could find fault in. The boy was well made, living up to the stories that all Zaibachi youths were as fair as Astorian maidens... which of course inevitably led to bawdy jokes he’ d rather not hear.

Regis Falafell was a pretty thing, slender in build with finely sculpted features framed by short strawberry red hair and steel grey eyes. Though he still clung to his home countries style of dress, he kept it subdued and often indulged in bright astorian colours rather than the darker tones favoured by Zaibach. It certainly suited the boy well enough and Allen could see why the rumour mill insisted that the two zaibach teens had quickly struck up a bond. Dilandau had always enjoyed the presence of lovely young men, especially ones prone to fawn over him.

“Sir Allen, I apologize for interrupting your work, but I felt that this was of worthy importance.” The boy’s accent was almost nonexistent as he spoke the near flawless astorian. He was obviously putting extra effort into his words, hoping to impress the knight. It was both amusing and worrisome at the same time. While it felt good to have someone at court seeking to impress him, even if it was to likely soften him up in regards to a prospective courting, the extra effort meant that he was stressed more than usual and struggling to cover it up. The way things were going, that didn’t bode well.

Pushing his paperwork aside, Allen gave the youth his full attention, motioning for Regis to sit and make himself comfortable. Surprisingly, the boy opted to remain standing, though he did enter further into the office, his cool grey eyes darting immediately to the reports on Allen’s desk, making him suddenly feel as if he should hide them.

Squashing his inner paranoia, the knight leaned back in his chair, propping his elbows up on the arms while lacing his fingers together across his chest. It was a relaxed pose and he hoped that it would put the boy at ease because he looked fit to burst.

“You are welcome to speak plainly with me Lord Regis.” He stated after watching the teenager pace back and forth for a good ten seconds in silence. “Your counsel is always welcome.”

The look he received warned that this might not be the matter in a few moments, but still, the young lord took a deep breath and proceeded onwards.

“As you well know, I’ve been speaking with various contacts of mine for information in regards to the.... incident.” Allen chose to ignore the vagueness of the words, dismissing them as the result of discomfort and nervousness. He himself often acted the same way when off balance. Rather than pointing out that this was an utterly redundant statement, the knight simply nodded his head patiently. Taking another deep breath, Regis continued.

“I received information late last night in the form of a coded message from some sources I have in the Empire...” Allen’s fingers squeezed themselves a little as he felt his tension suddenly grow. Coded messages from Zaibach were never good. Was the Ambassador involved somehow?

Likely following the knight’s thoughts, Regis held out a hand n a placating manner.

“My father knows nothing. There’s no love lost between himself and Captain Albatou but the man doesn’t have the spine to move against him.” There was bitterness in that tone of voice warning that the man’s near infamous meekness as a deep source of contention between father and son. “The message came with his weekly dispatches.”

Allen did his best not to think that this most likely meant that the boy was a spy of some sort, funnelling information beneath the ambassadors nose. It went far to show the level of trust he was being shown by having the boy admit to this level of duplicity. If Allen reported this, the young lord could likely find himself returned to Zaibach in chains. Judging by the weighted look he was currently receiving, Regis was fully aware of the risk he was taking, but was willing to do this for the sake of his idol. It put the knight in a precarious position, loyalty to his family or loyalty to his country. At least Regis seemed to have done his homework well. Allen had chosen Dilandau before and would do so again if necessary. The albino was the only family he had left after all. He was sacred.

“The night of the incident, Zaibach’s Fate Alteration Engine activated.” So this is what a heart attack felt like.

For several long and agonizing seconds, Allen completely forgot how to breathe. The world spun around him crazily and he was quite convinced that he was actually currently plummeting towards his untimely death. He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel... there was a yawning nothingness inside him that threatened to burst forth and devour the entire world as he screamed.

“H....how?” The word didn’t even sound like his voice. It was broken and warped, echoing from down a long empty corridor and bouncing back at him mockingly. How? How? Because it was Dilandau and impossible things seemed to spiral around his unique sibling. The strange became commonplace, the bizarre became the norm and through it all, in it’s center was Dilandau grinning at him mockingly as if to say “What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure, they didn’t say much more other than it was activated from this end and that Captain Albatou was involved.” Well, now he could see why Regis was nervous. If anyone heard about this turn of events, Dilandau would be branded a traitor of the highest ranks and accused of attempting to recreate Dornkirk’s mad coup against all of Gaea. There would be no trial, no chance to explain. He’d be killed, the machines would be taken apart and destroyed, then anyone with any affiliation to Zaibach would likely find themselves on an executioner’s block.

“He didn’t purposefully activate it.” Allen stated with utmost confidence, remembering that look of utter terror on his brothers face at the mere thought of the sorcerers attempting to retrieve him. There’s no way he’d send up what amounted to flares, luring them to his side.

“I know that sir.” Regis replied hotly, only to compose himself moments later, though with visible effort. “But that activating the night he was taken... What are you people even doing with a Fate Engine?”

“One might ask how you even know what such a device is.” Allen countered neatly, his eyes narrowing with warning. “The sorcerer’s weren’t ones to publicly announce their projects to the general populace.” Those grey eyes shifted away, refusing to meet his own and Allen’s sword had cleared it’s sheath before he’d even finished rising to his feet. The tip of the blade aimed unerringly at the young lord’s heart.

“You’re one of them aren’t you?” If death had a voice, this was it, and the boy knew it. Surprisingly, he didn’t back away or drop to his knees in terror, begging for his life. Instead, he took a deep bracing breath and looked up, staring into Allen’s furious eyes, his own gaze unwavering.

“It was the only way I had to get close to him.” There was no way to tell if he’d intended to say more because Allen struck him soundly across the face, sending the smaller youth tumbling to the floor in shock.

“Close to him!?” The knight snarled, coming around the desk, his eyes filled with righteous blue fire. “You people tortured him! Do you know that? He can’t even talk about you monsters without having panic attacks!”

“I didn’t know!” Regis cried from his place on the floor. He made no effort to shield himself or get back up to his feet. “We’d all been told he was some sort of super soldier, that he’d been specially bred to be the most perfect warrior Gaea had ever seen! I believed that, we all did! Dilandau Albatou was a sign of our genetic superiority! He was the perfect being!”

“Is that how you treat perfect beings? You sent a child into battle over and over relentlessly until it drove him mad!” Allen all but hissed, his sword never wavering from its position, ready to skewer the teenager if he so much as blinked the wrong way. “You ripped him away from his family. MY family! He didn’t even know who I was until the end of the war!”

Guilt flooded the zaibach youth’s face and he looked down, staring at the point of the blade for several long moments.

“I never knew. We’re the same age after all. Could a mere child of five kidnap someone? I’ve only been with the Madoushi for two years and I’m still just an apprentice. My job is to help my master in her experiments and before you accuse me of something monstrous, I was helping people. Protecting our soldiers.” That grey gaze flicked up, staring up at Allen with open honesty.

“There were different sections and departments within our ranks and only a select few had anything to do with those fate experiments. They worked under the direction of Emperor Dornkirk himself and were horribly insular. We weren’t to have any contact with Captain Albatou at all!” He chuckled softly in a rather self depreciating manner. “I’d joined the Madoushi to try to get close to Captain Albatou, but in doing so, I ended up ensuring that I’d never be able to so much as speak to him. Fate has a cruel sense of humour.”

“Do forgive me if I fail to sympathize with your plight.” Allen’s voice was ice and his eyes were just as cold. Inwardly he knew that the boy was right, there was no chance that he’d have been involved in the cruel experiments being conducted on Dilandau, nor had he been involved at all in the initial kidnapping. This was all guilt by association. The sorcerers had done unspeakable things to his sibling. Things that Gaddes refused to disclose no matter how fervently he ordered. Now, here one stood in front of him right when everything was at it’s darkest. It was nearly impossible to silence that little voice in is head which whispered about how good it would feel to strike back at the foul monsters who’d caused so much pain to this world. Even a small injury was still an injury after all.

“I don’t expect your sympathy.” Regis replied, his voice once again becoming calm and controlled. “All I’m doing is telling you the truth. What you decide will determine our destinies, and likely Gaea’s as well.”

“Well you certainly sound like a sorcerer.” The knight glared down the length of his blade at the supine youth, still holding onto his rage, refusing to step down. “Were you ever in contact with Dilandau?” If he’d so much as harmed a hair on his little brother’s head, he was a dead man.

This seemed to have struck a chord with the zaibachi teen and he chuckled softly to himself, a bitter smile flickering across his lips.

“As I said, contact was forbidden and strictly enforced.” He replied, but Allen knew that there was more, so he waited patiently in silence for more. “I only saw him once....” Regis glanced away for a moment, recalling the memory fondly. “He was so beautiful, standing there in the Great Rotunda, practically glowing in the morning light. I’d only seen him in posters and from a distance at the Fortunam Magnum festivals when he’d join the demonstrations. It was nothing like seeing him in person... the air practically vibrated around him with his intensity. When I looked at him... it was as if everything else in the world was just window dressing, set there to display him at his best.”

The knight could well understand that first impression, he’d felt it as well upon laying eyes on the youth so long ago. He’d never seen anyone with charisma like Dilandau. He swept you up in his wake, laving your head spinning and heart pounding so hard that you didn’t even realize that he’d just run roughshod over you. Even afterwards, you couldn’t bring yourself to care, because you’d gotten to touch something so much greater than yourself.

It was only after repeated exposure on the battlefield that you could begin to realize the danger behind such a power and saw past it to the vicious blood crazed warrior he was. Countless people had likely learned that lesson too late to save themselves. Allen considered himself lucky to have survived long enough to break his little brother’s spell.

“He didn’t even notice me.” Regis continued, unaware that his audience was only half listening. “He was too busy arguing with the Strategos about residual dampeners affecting the discharge cycles on the crima claws. I’d wanted to go up to him and introduce myself so badly... but I was too scared. Not of the prohibition mind you. I figured I could explain that away somehow and really, it was worth the risk. I mean... he was everything I’d ever wanted to be.

“It had been my dream to join the Dragonslayers under him. He was a legend. But I couldn’t. Father had forbidden me from joining the army and worse, the Dragonslayers were in Copper Army whereas my family had always traditionally served in Silver. That and... It sounds so stupid, but he’s a great warrior, the best... and here I was, just a kid hiding behind a cloak. Why would he want to waste a thought on me when he could be sharing a battlefield with someone, or discussing some great victory. What could I do to impress him? Talk about cellular mitosis?”

No one could ever make up a story so pathetic. It wasn’t even a sad tear jerking sort of patheticness. Instead this was more like an awkward adolescent drama at its worst and Allen could barely wrap his mind around it. He’d expected some great conspiracy on the part of this youth, not... innate shyness warring with hormones.

“Why the deception then? Why train as one of his warriors now?” The question was met with a slight sneer, the look so reminiscent of Dilandau’s favourite expression that the knight was positive it had been practised in front of a mirror at length.

“Simple survival. When the Empire fell, everyone pointed their fingers at the Madoushi. It didn’t matter if we were researching fate alteration or the cure for Lunos Virus. In the eyes of the world, we were all guilty.” There was no point in denying that statement, Allen had seen it for himself and couldn’t deny his own part in it. He’d wanted revenge after all, for Celena, for the thousands of needless deaths in the pursuit of Dornkirk’s mad dream... the sorcerers were the perfect scapegoats.

“The unlucky ones were caught, or served up on a silver platter to the executioners while the rest of us hung up our cloaks and hid, relying on connections and favours to avoid the tribunals. Father ensured that I remained unnoticed, but he felt it safer to drag me away from everything I’d ever known. My work was buried, my peers and mentors were cast aside... he didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye to my master. For what? I was an apprentice! I never hurt anyone or even intended to. My research went into helping people.”

“What were you researching?” Despite that little voice of warning, Allen felt his sword point drop. For all the danger this youth potentially represented, the knight was positive he was harmless... well, mostly harmless. Just another child swept up in an insane world, trying to survive.

“I was studying cells and the effects of prolonged energist exposure. My job was to make sure our pilots were safe!” Regis mumbled, blushing slightly at how inglorious his work sounded. “If you don’t believe me, I could recite my theory verbatim. My original apprenticeship thesis was around two hundred and twenty pages.”

“That’s quite alright.” The knight was positive that he wouldn’t be able to sit there and listen to five minutes of sorcerous theory and not go mad. With a sigh, he took a step back and sheathed his blade before holding his hand out to the youth. “Get up. The floor is no place for a noble.”

With evident relief, Regis slowly rose to his feet though he did make a point of keeping a respectable distance from the knight. After making a bit of a show of dusting himself off, the youth finally chose to sit down in the chair, though he remained perched on the edge, ready to bolt to his feet at a moment’s notice.

“You still didn’t say why you wanted to become one of Dilandau’s pilots. Why fight for Astoria?”

“If someone handed you your greatest dream, what lengths would you go to seize it?” Those too intelligent grey eyes narrowed slightly, as if to silently say that the teen knew exactly how far Allen would go to hold onto his dreams, and just how ruthless he was prepared to be. “I told my father that it was the best diplomatic choice, that it would show the other countries that Zaibach was willing to make amends for what we’d done, that we were prepared to fight for Gaea and it’s people. At the Academy, we receive basic guymelef training and had father not seen fit to push for me to join the Science Academy, I’d have learned to pilot them as well. As it stands, I know just enough to run basic diagnostics and recognize the various controls, but that’s more than anyone else here.” He lifted his chin proudly, daring Allen to make light of his struggles.

“When I heard that Captain Albatou was back and taking recruits, I knew that this was my only chance to finally reach my dream.”

“He loathes the sorcerers.” Allen pressed, noticing the slight wince at the statement. “What do you think he’ll do when he learns what you are?”

“My hope... “ Regis licked his lips nervously, his gaze darting down for a moment before looking back up at Allen. “My hope is to prove my worth to him, to become too invaluable to cast aside and maybe... maybe prove to him that we’re not all bad.” He took a deep breath, drawing strength from deep within. “I don’t know what was done to him. I honestly don’t. The files were closed and locked. I’d hear the odd rumour, but nothing ever concrete and from the sounds of it, those rumours were baseless.

“I want to earn his trust and even if he wants nothing to do with me, I’ll still do everything I can to help him. He’s my inspiration and I believe that he’s going to do incredible things. No matter what, I want to see that he achieves his destiny.” It was an impassioned speech and the boy clearly meant every word. Allen had never heard anyone speak with such sincerity. Of course, there was still that niggling knowledge that sorcerers, even apprentice ones couldn’t be trusted. They’d played with the lives of every living creature on the planet mercilessly and while the boy’s motives might be pure, there were no doubt many dark secrets lurking in his shadow.

The knight stared at the apprentice sorcerer for a long while in silence, weighing his potential value as an ally against the danger he represented with his mere existence. His knowledge could prove to be invaluable, after all, only the best and the brightest were trained to number amongst the mysterious sorcerers. The teenager likely knew more than most astorian scholars. On the other hand, his true loyalties would always be shrouded in mystery and doubt. While he might profess an obsessive desire for Dilandau’s company, it could easily all be a plot to continue the ruthless control the organization had held over the albino. Also, should Regis’ true identity ever be revealed, it would be disastrous to the new unit. Who would dare to trust a team which sheltered the very enemy they professed to fight against?

In the end, it wasn’t his call to make. The unit belonged to Dilandau and he would be the one responsible for their actions both real and imagined. If Allen attempted to interfere, he had no doubt that the young captain would respond in typically vicious fashion.

“Here’s the deal.” The knight finally stated, fixing Regis with a level gaze, his tone of voice leaving no room for compromise. “You will do everything you can to help us retrieve Dilandau from his captors. Our situation is desperate and no doubt, his is as well. It would be foolish to cast aside any tool at this point. However,” His eyes narrowed and he watched the boy swallow nervously. “When we retrieve my brother, you will be honest with him and tell him your true profession. He’s been lied to for far too long by too many people. I will not allow them to continue. He deserves better than that.”

Regis paled noticeably, likely fully aware of how badly that meeting would go. At least it would encourage the boy to do as much as he possibly could to impress the dragonslayer and earn some leniency in his heart.

“If he casts you aside at that point, you will respect his wishes. There will be no threats or manipulations on your part. Is that clear?” Again, the teenager nodded his head though Allen noted that he tensed visibly at the very thought of being cast aside.

“Until then, you will continue to work with us. I’ll hold my tongue in regards to your past but the instant I feel that your loyalty is to anything other than my brother, you and I will be having a very short and very noteworthy final discussion.” He let his hand drift lightly across the handle of his sword in clear warning.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes sir. I would rather die than betray the captain. If it comes to that, I will not stay your hand.” Jeture save him from teenage drama.

“Excellent. I’m pleased that we’ve reached this understanding. Now, about this contact of yours and the message. What more can you tell me?” He watched as the boy leaned back into his chair, at ease now that the time of threats had passed. For a youth of only sixteen, he’d carried himself astonishing well through that conversation and Allen was positive that he’d be a formidable opponent politically speaking once the boy reached of age. So long as his loyalties remained true, he’d be a valuable asset to Dilandau’s little entourage. A cool head and level temper to balance out the captains volatile mood swings.

“I was going to and speak to them in person.” Regis stated after giving the question some thought. “There’s more information to be shared, but it’s too risky to send it in a message, even coded. If other Madoushi are involved, they’d know the ciphers. Also, this is all rather time sensitive, especially if the Fate Alteration Engine activated. That would have sent up red flags all through the Empire.”

“That machine was supposed to have been torn apart as part of the armistice agreement.”

“And it was.” The youth replied as smoothly as any seasoned politician. “The machine was powered down, stripped of it’s vital components and is little more than Gaea’s most glorified paperweight. However, several subsystems remained intact, allowing for the monitoring of fate fluctuations. It’s a passive system running on little more than ambient power. We couldn’t alter the fate of a fruit fly if our lives depended on it.”

“You seem to know a lot for someone who was in a vastly different department.” Allen noted idly, still studying the boy’s reactions carefully. “I thought you’d said that you had nothing to do with the fate alteration experiments.” This time, the zaibachi youth didn’t even twitch. Either he’d gotten over his initial nervousness or he was being utterly honest.

“I didn’t, but I knew a few of the apprentices who were. When everything fell apart, I helped a few hide. They were just kids like me, being blamed for things they’d had no control over or part in. We talked a little. We still do, and no, I’m not handing them over to face “Justice”. They didn’t do anything to deserve execution.”

“Could they name those who do?”

“No.” The look in Regis’ eyes warned that he wasn’t going to budge on this. “You’ve stripped our country of it’s wealth, pride and ability to protect ourselves from the predations of others. We’re right back to how things were before Emperor Dornkirk came to us only this time we know what we’ve lost. Don’t you dare demand that we turn traitor on our brothers and sisters on top of that. All we have is each other now.” Boldly rising to his feet, Regis gave Allen a narrow eyed look. “I won’t stop you from killing the Madoushi who are after Lord Dilandau. He’s our brother and a war hero. He should be treated as such. But I won’t sit back and allow good people to be condemned for fighting for what they believed in. We might have been in the wrong, but that doesn’t make us all monsters.”

“Your precious Emperor tried to subvert the free will of every man, woman, and child on Gaea.” Jeture, he was positive that he’d had this same conversation with Dilandau. Was everyone from that damn country a fanatic?

“I’m not going to argue this with you Sir Allen. Perhaps the Emperor’s efforts truly would have brought lasting peace to this world, perhaps it would have been corrupted from within. We’ll never know. All we can do is deal with what fate has dealt us and move forward into the unknown. It’s hardly ideal, but it’s all we have to work with.” Gods of Gaea, it was as if he was dealing with a miniature Folken. Despite all common sense, he was finding that he rather liked this kid and hoped that Dilandau found it within himself to put the boy’s past behind them. Speaking of putting the past behind him...

“I’m going with you.” The knight stated boldly, catching the teenager by surprise. “When you go to Zaibach to speak to your informant.”

“You can’t, it’s too dangerous. Treaty or no treaty, if you’re discovered there, my countrymen will tear you apart.” This boy had obviously never dealt with a Schezar before if he thought that danger would put him off. Instead, Allen stood up, his every movement deliberately graceful and dangerous, his hand casually resting on the hilt of his sword.

“The first time my sibling was taken from me, I could do nothing but wait and pray for news and miracles. I received neither for ten years. Now, I am one of the greatest swordsman on Gaea. I’m a Knight Caeli and a brother who’s determined to protect my bloodkin. I will not sit back and do nothing while others put their lives in danger. If I have to go into Zaibach alone and hunt down every sorcerer who survived the purge one by one, I will do it without hesitation or thought of the danger.”

“You’ll be immediately recognizable.”

“That is why disguises exist.”

“You won’t be able to bring your guymelef.”

“I’ll have my sword and my wits. That is enough.” The two met each others stares, daring the other to be the first to back down. Eventually, Regis sighed and bowed his head in defeat.

“Do you even understand zaibachi?” Tasting victory, Allen smiled and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I speak it fluently.” He replied in the crsip sharp language. His native accent still softened the words, but it was still clear and intelligible. At least something good had come out of his... extended time in Dilandau’s company and in joint exercises before the war.

“Alright, but I’ll be in charge. You follow my lead and do what I say no matter how it looks, alright?”

“I won’t compromise my honour.”

“We’re going to Zaibach, the country you’re helping to kill by inches. Half our population likely won’t survive the winter. Look into the faces of the children your country is taking food from and let me know how much you think your honour is worth..”

“Needless to say, I’m still going.” The harsh truth in the statement stung, but Allen refused to back down. There was far too much at stake and this was the closest thing to a break they’d gotten in nearly a colour. If he had to compromise his honour for Dilandau, he would, but there was no way he was going to let this kid know that.

Regis finally nodded his head in acquiescence, torn between relief at having someone as skilled with a blade as the Knight Caeli at his back, and worried, because there was a good chance Allen might learn more than he ever wanted to know about Zaibach and his beloved sibling.

“We leave at first light. I already have a leviship booked.” The knight nodded his head, thankfully not suggesting his own ship as transport. It was far too recognizable for this mission and would raise too many unanswerable questions on either side of the border.

“I’ll be ready.” Bowing his head politely in deference to the knights rank, Regis slipped out the door. He had a lot to prepare and only a short time to accomplish it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *big epic reveal music!  
> Gasp! Those gosh darn Madoushi are everywhere aren't they? The big question though is can they trust this one? Is he really a besotted teenage pretty boy? Or a viper in disguise? Is Allen about to walk headfirst into the worlds most obvious trap? Is Shroden finally going to get his comeuppance? Will Dilandau ever stop picking on poor little Kamata?
> 
> Tune in next chapter!
> 
> Next Chapter: Shit gets crazy.


	9. A Harsh Lesson with Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All hell breaks loose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you NaNoWriMo for kicking my ass into high gear. Here's another chapter of fun filled happiness and light for you all!  
> I still don't own Vision of Escaflowne, yadda yadda, you know the deal.
> 
> I sort of went on a writing spree and did over 15 pages in on day so here's another chapter! I'm about halfway through the next one and still going strong! Must ride the wave!

His stomach cramped with hunger so badly that he nearly doubled over in pain. Biting back a whimper and the following wave of dizziness, the boy reached out a thin hand cautiously, his crimson gaze darting back and forth nervously, making sure that no one took note of him.

A chunk of meat sat there on a leaf, the grease congealing around it enticingly, glistening in the firelight. The smell was heavenly and saliva filled his mouth at the thought of taking a bite out of the sweet succulent flesh. He could almost taste it... just another inch... It was Kosta’s dinner which made it even more delectable a theft. The lean wolf man always taunted and tormented him, making his already difficult life even harder. He’d steal whatever slim pickings the boy had found to eat and always left such an array of bruises on his normally snowy white skin that it seemed to be prmanently mottled with patches of black, yellow and green.

Moments before his grubby fingers brushed the edge of the leaf, a strong hand closed around his wrist, squeezing hard enough to grind bones together while yanking him forward sharply, sending him sprawling face first into the hard dirt.

Immediately, he began to struggle like a wild thing, scratching and punching in desperation, dreading the beating he knew was coming. A solid blow across the head stunned him, making dark spots dance in front of his vision and stilled his struggles as remaining conscious became his main priority.

“You would take food from the mouths of my hunters you useless little ape?” Bengazi snarled, his jowls pulling back to display long fangs which had been sheathed in sharpened steel and glinted evilly in the firelight. Another sharp blow drove the air from his lungs and left the boy curled up around his tender belly, trying to protect delicate internal organs from attack.

Several of the nearby wolf clan laughed in encouragement, all of them amused at the torment of the lowest member of their pack. Kosta himself leered down at him and then deliberately reached for the precious piece of meat. Picking it up, he took a bite out of it then patted his belly once in satisfaction before tossing the food into the fire where it hissed and blackened.

“Scavenger” The wolf man growled softly down at the boy. “Feeding off of the work of others, giving nothing in return.”

“Hunger!” The boy snarled back, his accent thick to the point of being almost unintelligible. “Hunger! Food!”

“I don’t speak scavenger.” Kosta sneered before giving the small boy a sharp kick to the ribs, adding to his ever growing collection of bruises. Sitting back against a rock the large wolfman smirked in amusement before pulling out a carved pipe and lighting it, the heavy stink of the faintly narcotic leaves filling the air as he dismissed the boy, or at least pretended to.

They’d played this cruel game before and the boy knew better. Kosta was always watching, waiting for the slightest lowering of his guard to strike. It left the boy in a constant state to low level paranoia, but thankfully, he’d long ago grown accustomed to that. Instead of rising to his feet, the human child rolled backwards, narrowly missing the fire as he pulled himself into a low crouch, wary eyes surveying the surrounding pack.

Silent rage filled him at the accusation and he practically shook with the indignity of it all. Scavenger? He was a hunter! He’d killed before, many times and he’d proven himself in battle more often than he could count. But it had been against human opponents. The wolf warriors would always be quick to point out. Hardly worthy foes despite their shining weapons and machines. Humans hid behind the works of others to make up for their deficiencies. Here, out in the harsh forests of eastern Zaibach, he would have no such advantages. Here, he was little better than prey.

The law of Fang and Club ruled here, and the boy had neither. All he had were tiny little chips of ivory set in his jaws, hardly able to tear apart the half raw meat which made up the primary diet of the clan. They were all but useless for taking down prey or breaking bones in half with a vicious snap, allowing them to suck out the delicious fatty marrow. As for his hands... they were small pale and weak. Everything about him screamed out his physical inferiority and he was treated as the lowest member of the pack, barely tolerated until he could prove himself otherwise.

The Masters had dropped him off with no instructions other than to learn and survive. He had no idea when they would return, or if they would. For all he knew, he’d failed them on some terrible level and had now been abandoned to this new fate.

The wolf clan had been forced to take him in, that much was obvious in their openly hostile glares and the way that they all went out of their way to make his life as difficult as possible. Still, despite the constant abuse, the vicious attacks and the utter exhaustion which plagued his every waking moment, he loved this new experience.

This was the first time he’d ever heard of a forest let alone been inside one before. The very concept of the colour green had boggled his senses and yet here he was, surrounded by so many variations of it that his head spun just trying to picture them all. More importantly, it was never silent, not even in the darkest part of the night. There were the sounds of the forest, of insects, nocturnal hunters and even the breathing of the clan sleeping around him. He’d never once felt alone despite the utter ostracism he suffered.

More importantly, there were no labs. The Masters had freed him from the knives, the lights and the cold tables. He didn’t wake up anymore with strange scars on his body or lay there bound and screaming as his body was opened up or violated with strange glowing chemicals. Here, the only things which hurt him were the wolf clan, and they were little more than brutal unrefined bullies. Their rough attacks were just annoyances to be endured... but the hunger... the hunger was new.

His Masters had always ensued that he ate often enough to keep his strength at it’s peak. Starvation created weakness, weakness created uselessness and Zaibach didn’t tolerate useless things.

At least they still gave him his medications. Bengazi would mix them with water and ensure he drank it all every day without fail. Even after Kosta and Mikkata had beaten him into unconsciousness one day, he’d been awoken for his drink... then put back to work.

Each day he got thinner and weaker, sustaining himself on insects and grubs he managed to dig up from the dirt, stealing food and inevitably, nibbling on plants. Until he learned to differentiate the toxic from the edible, this often led to him violently purging his system from the plants toxins, losing what little nutrients he’d managed to gain.

Still, the wolves took their instructions from the Madoushi seriously. No matter how weak he grew, Bengazi dragged him out at dawn every morning and taught him how to track, explained about the local plants and their effects forcing him to memorize, and lamentably, to learn from first hand experience. Edible, medicinal, or simply just plain toxic, He was made to sample them all until he knew their appearance, smell, taste and effects off by heart. It at least had the added benefit of toughening his resistance against various natural poisons, but it often left him too sick to be able to move and he was often reduced to sleeping in his own filth until someone grew too disgusted with him and threw him into the nearby lake.

What was worse was that no matter how sick he was after a day of edible experimentation, he would still be given a list of chores to do around the camp. They were always the lowest and most degrading, not even fit for pups. He would drag himself through his duties, often barely conscious. No help was every offered or expected. It was all considered pup work after all, and if he couldn’t accomplish that, he would endure another beating on top of the poisoning being endued. Still, he struggled on without complaint. After all, he’d grown up with far worse conditions.

 

The next day during his lessons, the boy found a piece of flint on the ground when he was scouting around for a patch of black briar, A rather disgusting plant which grew out of the carcasses of decaying wyverns. The berries absorbed the creatures natural poisons and could be used to create a rather potent antitoxin the wolf clan gathered whenever possible. In the late summer, the serpentine wyverns were often out in force and their stingers could kill a full grown wolf-kin warrior in less than a minute.

Unfortunately, wyverns were rather territorial and swarms tended to stay in one area. Meaning that if there was a corpse of one, there was often guaranteed to be half a dozen live ones nearby... at the very least.

Being the smallest and the lowest ranked member of the pack, it fell on the boy to head into a swarms territory to pick the berries. After all, better he die than one of the much more valuable warriors.

In all honesty, he didn’t mind this duty despite the danger. The slender sinuous beasts fascinated him. They were pale as the moon, their scales glittering in the sunlight, reflecting the light back at whomever was foolish enough to stare at them for too long, lulling them into a sense of lethargy. Yet when they attacked, it was with a brilliant burst of speed. Their bodies becoming a near invisible blur. All it took was one lethal strike of their venom filled tails to deliver the death blow, then they would retreat a short distance, allowing the poison to do it’s lethal work.

The boy thrilled at how they’d watch their prey die, taking an almost lazy enjoyment out of the doomed creatures struggles. He’d often expriencd such pleasure in his own kills back with his Masters and felt a certain kinship with the vicious serpents. Small, pale and beautiful, they were often overlooked by the larger and more aggressive creatures in the forest, but they were undeniably lethal and more than capable of taking down even the largest prey should they feel motivated to do so. Yes, they were not so different at all.

Always enjoying dancing on the knife edge of disaster, he continued his forays for the dangerous berries. It not only gave him a chance to study the pale serpents, it gave him a chance to practice stealth and caution on a level he never would have experienced back in training. An hour could easily be spent slowly making his way silently across a clearing, often beneath the gaze of the swarm itself. Like their much larger cousins, the land dragons, the wyverns responded to emotions as well as movement. So long as he stayed calm and moved with the same sinuous grace as they did, they took him for one of their own and paid him little mind. After all, who but another wyvern would dare to move calmly among them.

Several times he’d even been able to creep into their midst and lay down with the swarm, basking on a sun warmed rock in the early evening when there was no threat of his delicate skin burning. Once he’d even fallen asleep and woken to find himself buried under several of the long cool bodies. That had been an unusual and somewhat surprising experience and his initial shock had nearly spelled his doom until he’d gotten his racing heart rate quickly under control.

One fateful morning, on a berry hunt, he came upon a deposit of unusual stones which had washed up during the latest rain storm. They were a strange rough white on the surface, but as one broken stone suggested, the interior was an odd waxy texture inside. Ever curious, the boy quickly glanced around, ensuring that he was alone save for the swarm sunning themselves on a nearby rock outcropping, uninterested in his presence.

Carefully pocketing as many berries as he could in the folds of this thin loincloth, he took several of the strange stones with him as well, hiding them inside a rotted tree stump so as to keep them from being discovered. A germ of an idea had taken root in his mind and he knew that secrecy was of utmost importance. If he was discovered, he’d endure far worse than a simple beating.

Over the next few days, he chipped away at the stones, patiently flaking off flat chunks which while razor sharp, were too thin to serve for his plans. His inexperience was telling and he went through several stones, rendering them into little more than beaten flakes of shrapnel which were ill shaped and useless. Still, he refused to give up and under the guise of completing his chores, he continued struggling to shape them until a little over a week later, he finally had a serviceable blade. Finally,

Just holding it in his hands gave him a long forgotten feeling of power and he stared down at the cruel edge of his weapon and allowed himself the faintest of smiles. Physically, he might lack the weapons of one of the wolf-kin, but mentally, he knew that his innovative brain was far superior to those of the pack and it was long past time that he evened the battlefield.

This time, when he was caught attempting to steal Kosta’s meat, he waited for the wolf man to strike him, snarling out his usual insults and threatening to strangle the boy until he was nothing but carrion, a fit fate for scavenger scum. After so many repetitions of this scene, neither Kosta nor the pack at large paid much attention to the child, figuring that he would skulk away as he always did, offering little worse than sullen glares and garbled insults.

His attack was wholly unexpected and as soon as the sound of a heavy hand striking delicate bones echoed through the clearing, the boy struck as quick as the wyverns he stalked. The razor sharp edge of the stone sliced deeply into the side of the Kosta’s throat, spraying hot blood across the gathered clan and painting the pale boy with brilliant crimson.

As one, the wolf tribe shot to their feet, shocked by the unexpected violence. Several leaped forward to either aid their fallen packmate or take down his attacker but a sharp snarl from Bengazi froze them in their tracks. One by one, their collective gazes all turned to stare at the human boy who still stood there unmoving and unafraid. In his bloody hand was he weapon, clutched tightly and ready to be brought to bear the instant any stepped within range. Crimson eyes, the same shade as the fresh blood dripping down his cheeks and hair practically glowed in the reflected light of the fire. A wide grin split the boy’s face in half and several of the clan swore that they could hear the human pup giggling softly.

Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hand to his face and delicately licked the blood from his fingers. Those crimson eyes never left those of the clan leader, openly daring him to step forward.

Intrigued, Bengazi remained seated, watching the scene unfold, curious to see where it would take them. It was only when the boy stepped towards Kosta’s fallen body that the great wolf stood up, towering over the small slender human pup.

“You think you have claim over him?” He growled in a low voice, his fangs glinting in the firelight. Rather than shrink back, the boy continued to hold his glare and pointed defiantly at the corpse.

“I kill.” He stated boldly in his high pitched child’s voice. “Mine. Meat! Hunger” Several of the beastkin blanched visibly in horror, believing that the boy meant to devour the corpse of their packmate. There might have even been a few outraged snarls mingled with perhaps a shred of dread.

Bengazi grinned slowly at the human pup, his amber eyes narrowing as he searched the tiny frail creature for any hint of fear or submission, but found none. The creature’s smouldering bloody glare remained steady.

“The kill is yours.” He stated finally, turning his back to the pup, proving that he didn’t fear the human in their midst. “Take from him what you will Nakahi.”

There were several startled gasps from around the pack at this and even the boy looked shocked. Had... had he been given a name? Nakahi... the Wyvern. It was his first name, his first real identity and it made him feel stronger, more whole. It wasn’t a human name, but he wasn’t a human yet... he still had to earn that, but this was an acceptable start and he basked in the warm glow.

Glancing down once more at his bloody stone knife, the newly named Nakahi smiled to himself. It seemed that he’d found a stinger and proven that though small and unassuming, he was just as lethal as any member of the powerful pack. No longer would he be tread on with impunity. He was ready to bite back and take what was his by right of strength!

Within moments, the Nakahi had stripped the wolf clan warrior of his clothes, wrapping them around his own pale slender frame. He kept his motions as smooth and graceful as his new namesake, taking pride in his new identity, all the while making a point of meeting the glare of each and every one of the pack, growling softly in defiance the way they so often had with him.

Watching from his place by the fire, Bengazi had to bite back a smile of amusement at the pup’s boldness, fully aware that this was only the beginning. The human sorcerers had warned him that the child would only stay cowed and submissive for so long. Once he sensed a weakness, he would strike, and continue to strike until he was reigned in. There would likely be more fights, the pack wouldn’t let this upstart claim Kosta’s position in the clan without a fight, and unlike their brother, they wouldn’t be taken by surprise. The little wyvern would have his work cut out for him, but in the end, it only served to strengthen his pack and that’s all the vicious leader cared about.

In a dazzling show of self control, Nakahi finally reached for the chunk of meat which had started the drama. It was obvious that he was desperately starving, but he refused to drop his guard until he was positive that no one was going to dare attack him. Those cunning eyes of his never ceased to move as he bit into the half cooked flesh, ready for any hint of aggression.

The meat was sweet, succulent and by far, the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life. It tasted like victory.

 

 

Van woke up with a groan of disgust, his hand quickly covering his mouth as the lingering taste of raw meat nearly overwhelmed his senses. Ugh, what a lovely way to start the day. He could still taste the blood. Dammit, why couldn’t Dilandau have normal dreams?

It had become commonplace for them to share each others dreams, so much so that it didn’t even surprise them anymore. Instead, they witnessed deep personal insights into the lives of the other, learning things which had never been shared before. In an odd way, Van couldn’t help but feel a little bit of a thrill over these nocturnal escapades. After all, he’d lived a rather quiet and sheltered life until that fateful dragon hunt. Dilandau on the other hand seemed to have lived one of unending adventure. He’d seen the albino’s first flight in an Alseides, fought sky pirates on the borders of Daedalus, battled giant bears as white as snow up in some northern wasteland with nothing but a sword in his hand and Miguel at his side. Through the dragonslayers eyes, he’d seen temples filled with vast treasure, a city lost in the deep jungles of Freid and run through deep forests as a member of a wolf tribe until his legs were numb and his heart threatened to explode in his chest. It was thrilling, exciting and terrifying all at the same time.

On the other hand, he’d also felt the madness tearing it’s way through his mind as he faced off against some twisted demonic reflection of Escaflowne, hearing his friends dying all around him. Felt the terror of being pinned down on a table as his body was cut open, unable to do anything but scream as he watched his flesh peeled back to expose vulnerable organs. He’d felt that crippling loneliness brought on by extreme isolation where his screams were swallowed up by the darkness and his only companion was his rapidly crumbling mind.

As for what Dilandau dreamed, he had no idea. By unspoken agreement, neither talked about what they saw, though Van had noticed the dragonslayer giving him odd looks, brimming with curiosity, bitterness and jealousy. No doubt he was seeing what a warm and loving family felt like, the security of knowing that he could sleep in safety and that there would be someone ready to tend to his childhood wounds with kisses and cuddles.

The king cracked open an eye and glanced at the albino who was still sound asleep, snuggled up tightly against himself as if he were trying to bond the two of them together on a molecular level. Prior to this mess, he’d never have figured Dilandau to be much of a cuddler, but it had quickly become apparent that the instant the pale youth wasn’t wrapped up in his arms, he’d become subject to horrific nightmares which would leave him kicking and screaming in terror.

This was by far the simplest solution to the problem, made simpler by the fact that they only had the one small cot and needed to share body heat. Not that Van minded. At last not now.

Much like Dilandau, he took comfort in their enforced proximity and couldn’t deny that there was something growing between them. Perhaps it was only one sided, it was sometimes hard to tell with the albino’s mercurial temperament, but whenever they touched or drew too close, Van felt this strange surge of anticipation, as if lightning crackled up the length of his spine and a legion of butterflies were trapped in his stomach. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once, made worse when the other youth turned it into a game. He’d dare the king to do something, to make a move on him, confident that propriety and shyness would hold the darker teen at bay. It drove Van half mad with frustration and he was rapidly becoming a fan of cold showers which helped drive away unwanted bodily reactions. Naturally, Dilandau took every possible opportunity to make note of the king’s “shyness” eliciting an infuriating amount of delight in the reactions he caused.

Smiling slightly at the dragonslayer, Van ran his fingers through the soft white locks, enjoying their silken texture and how Dilandau murmured softly in his sleep before burrowing his face in the crook of Van’s neck. He didn’t have the heart to wake up the albino who needed every bit of sleep he could get. Though Dilandau liked to pretend that the experiments weren’t weighing on him, he knew that they were every bit as draining on the albino, as evidenced by the dark circles around his eyes which seemed to have become permanent features.

Van and long ago lost track of the passage of time. It seemed as if they’d been trapped in these nightmare labs forever. It certainly felt like years. There was nothing to show them the passage of time and he was sure that was done deliberately. Meals were at odd times and often he was positive that they’d been fed while still unconscious from the experiments. Their meals and medications fed via tubes directly into their stomachs.

The two teenagers slept when they were tired, which was often and exercised when they weren’t. Dilandau had made it a point to force Van into joining his brutal regimen, ensuring that neither grew weak or stiff from their enforced sedentary life. Besides, it helped pass the time and kept their mind off what occupied the rest of their waking.. and often unconscious hours.

Tests, experiments... hellish nightmares made real and forced on them over and over again until the very thought of that cold metal table made him shudder with dread and he was positive that the sight of a needle would send him into panic attacks for years to come.

Things had changed since that day Dilandau had returned with his warning of their time running out. The success rate of the experiments had suddenly skyrocketed and most of the test subjects survived, though with varying levels of success. Van was still haunted by every twisted chimera created using his blood and there was more than once that the table he was placed on still bore red streaks from previous dissections.

It became commonplace for the sorcerers to take apart the test subjects who failed to meet their exacting standards and several tables had been set up, their surfaces cluttered with jars filled with the preserved organs and samples from those poor creatures.

Tseng was beside himself with delight, his greedy eyes already seeing victory unfolding at his feet. His temper improved and the threats lessened with each successive success. Though Van didn’t trust the way the general looked at him. There was something calculating in the depths of those eyes that he didn’t trust. It warned him that while Shroden might demand his death at the end of this project, the general might have other crueller plans in store. Between him and Salzar’s increasingly bold touches, It always made him eager to retreat back to the dubious safety of their shared cell.

At least he wasn’t waking up alone this time. All too often he’d open his eyes and find himself to be the sole occupant of the little cot, knowing that the guards had come for Dilandau while he slept and wondering what shape he’d be in upon his return.

Whenever he did finally make an appearance, usually hours later, he’d be bearing bruises in intimate areas and a few times, even his throat was bruised. The clear mark of fingers standing out sharply against pale skin and made worse by reducing the youth’s usually silken smooth voice to a soft croak.

The pale teen never commented on it or drew attention to what had occurred during those absences. Instead, he simply headed directly to the shower and washed with feverish intensity. Afterwards, he would curl up against Van, drawing strength in the fact that he wasn’t alone.

Van had learned to pretend that nothing was going on. Instead, he offered a shoulder to lean against, a body to hold, and someone who could give the other teen at least the illusion of safety for a few precious moments. The irony of this was of course not lost on either of them.

While he was never thanked directly for his attentions, he had a feeling that Dilandau was doing what he could to take the brunt of the sorcerer’s vile attentions upon himself, sparing Van from the worst of it. For that, the king was deeply grateful and more than a little guilty.

The dragonslayer also went out of his way to talk. Determined to drive away any silence with lewd jokes and stories, an endless avalanche of petty insults not to mention the most openly homicidal pep talks one could imagine. Dilandau would spend hours gleefully detailing how he was going to murder just about everyone they came in contact with. He even named the guards using a creative and disgusting titles which only grew worse with time.

It was odd to realize just how dependent they’d grown on each other for mental balance. There was no doubt in the mind of either youth that had they been alone in this, neither would have survived with their minds intact, but together, they were somehow holding on... sometimes just by the skin of their teeth, but in this place, any victory was worth revelling in.

The two kept each others spirits up with nearly fanatical dedication. They would laugh, tease each other, share various stories of different times in their lives and most common of all, argue until they were both ready to strangle the other. It didn’t matter what the topic was, they’d find a way to disagree, often turning simple observations into heated battles of will. Still, no matter how angry they were with each other, Dilandau always helped Van back to the cell and bathed him when he was too weak to do so himself and in return, Van gave him what comfort he could after every horrible absence.

This naturally drove Kamata insane and he would throw himself against the bars until his poor battered body couldn’t handle it anymore and the dragon would stumble over to the center of his cell and fall over, grumbling loudly. Dilandau naturally took this as an open invitation to give vent to his bullying nature and he made a game of tormenting the beast, gleefully betting on how many blows the dragon could take before giving up. Deliberately egging the beast on until it was in a frothing frenzy and the guards would step in, yelling at dragonslayer and dragon in turn. It did nothing to dissuade either of them, usually leaving Van with a bad case of nerves and a pounding headache.

 

Today was different, there was an energy in the air which made both teenagers feel alert and nervous. Dilandau had awoken first and had indulged in a game of hot hands with Kamata until the screeching of the infuriated dragon woke up everyone else in the room. He then mercilessly drove Van through various exercises designed to get the blood flowing and the bodies energies up. It was maddening and exhausting, a dangerous combination to indulge in before another experiment, but all too quickly, Van found himself catching the infectious nervousness and he couldn’t sit still for longer than a few moments.

It was almost a relief when the guards finally came and the old slave woman shuffled into their cell with their food. At least that meant they’d be heading to the labs shortly and the exhaustive experiments would drive away this energy once and for all.

They still had no spoons, but Van was so used to this by now that he didn’t even hesitate before using his fingers to scoop the foul concoction into his mouth. It sat like lead in his stomach, more irritation than sustenance and Van found that his nervousness was only growing worse.

Seeming to catch onto the agitation of their prisoners, there were more guards than usual and all were at high alert. He and Dilandau were prodded towards the labs by the energist staves and gruff words. The treatment wholly unnecessary after how many times they’d made this walk. Van was positive that he could do this in his sleep, in fact, he likely had done it in his sleep, at least the way back.

The lab looked as it always did. The two tables, the strange menacing equipment and the surrounding pods waiting for their cursed occupants to be forced within. The only inconsistency was that the pods which had previously housed the two survivors from the original test lot were empty.

“They’ve stabilized enough to be removed from the puparium.” Dilandau observed softly, following Van’s gaze. “They’ve been taken elsewhere for study and most likely dissection.” Van had been here long enough that he didn’t even so much as twitch at the thought. Instead, he simply nodded his head slightly and narrowed his eyes as he looked towards the new shiny pods waiting for more test subjects... ten of them. It was going to be a large group, that would leave both of them utterly exhausted by the end. Idly, Van found himself wondering how many would survive.

The sound of a door opening at the far end of the lab caught their attention and they looked up to see General Tseng striding in looking proud and pompous as could be. Behind him was the tall cold faced officer who often accompanied him and seven others. They were all from Basram, sharing the same dark hair and eyes as their fellows, though the warm tan skin tone varied somewhat in tone. All appeared to be military and they moved with the cool precision of a lifetime of training.

As one, they came to a stop in front of the pods, one for each and began to disrobe, folding their clothing and accoutrements neatly and placing them on a nearby table, as if they assumed they would be putting them back on sometime soon.

At first glance, they seemed to be little more than emotionless dolls, their eyes staring straight ahead, their faces impassive. The closer Van looked, the more he saw their nervousness. Several shifted slightly from foot to foot, many were sweating or licking their lips nervously an all had a near manic gleam in their eyes. They all looked like they believed that they were being given some great honour rather than being forced to play a twisted game of chance with their very existence. Even the normally emotionless and stoic officer seemed to have caught onto the fervour and his hand were clenched tightly at his side as he struggled to restrain his triumph.

“The Altered Fate Soldiers.” Dilandau murmured at the same moment Van realized what they were facing. These were the men they would be doing battle with, their future nemeses.

“They don’t look so tough.” Van replied, earning the slightest of cocky smiles from the dragonslayer and a stinging jolt on the back from one of the guards. Before either youth could say anything else, the door opened once again and a new group of people approached the center of the lab.

This time, it was women, unclothed, flanked by guards and unlike the men, none of the females looked to be willing participants. All of them looked starved and beaten to within an inch of their lives. Their every movement radiated exhaustion and defeat. Van was sure that each and every one of them were desperately hoping for a swift death in order to end their suffering. It was heartbreaking to know they’d receive neither.

The woman seemed to have come from all over Gaea and were of various ages and physical ability. Van couldn’t help but wonder if these were some of the slaves he’d seen during his initial walk through those nightmarish cells, though he inwardly doubted it. Even despite their obvious rough treatment, these women were still in better shape than those poor wretches who’d been tortured and tormented into madness.

“They’re exhausted, their spirits broken.” Dilandau continued to observe out loud. “They won’t have the energy to fight and their identities will be subsumed during the merging, leaving only their essences behind.” He didn’t sound as if he approved of this, though Van was sure that it was more likely due to the fact that it was artificially creating a dominant personality rather than letting the two subjects fight it out themselves. “They won’t be as strong, though likely more stable.” Yup, called it in one. Sometimes Van really wished that he didn’t know the dragonslayer quite so well.

“That’s disgusting.” The king murmured softly, noting how the women meekly took their places next to the men, cringing noticeably, several openly sobbing.

“I agree. They’re too old, the process will likely drive them insane. Their identities are too well anchored to their current state of being. Children are much more malleable.”

“You sound like Him.” Van muttered softly, noting how Dilandau not only visibly flinched at the words, but quickly fell silent. Yeah, it had been a low blow, but he really didn’t want to hear a side by side comparison between inhumane experiments, especially from someone like Dilandau. While the king might have grown closer to the pale youth, he wasn’t blind to the dragonslayer’s shortcomings and empathy was certainly one of them... as was his utter lack of understanding of basic human decency.

Speaking of their chief tormentor, Shroden was arguing with the general in a soft voice while Salzar bound the women to the men and ensued that each pair was equipped with monitoring devices so that the madoushi could keep track of their vitals through the operation.

The lead sorcerer didn’t look pleased with the test subject and didn’t seem to be shy about expressing this. Most likely, he was echoing exactly what Dilandau had stated, only going into vastly more detail. Naturally, Tseng didn’t seem to be at all bothered by this and casually waved away the sorcerer’s protests as if they were of no importance.

Van had to fight back a sneer of contempt at the man’s arrogance. All of this suffering was nothing more than a stepping stone for him, it didn’t matter who died to achieve it. Still, it said even more for the blind arrogance of the man when he boldly strode over to the center most pod where a lone woman stood, naked and shivering in terror. She actually cried out loudly in horror as the general approached her and began to remove his uniform, prompting both teens to guess as to what some of her tortures had entailed. There was no doubt that the man himself had been responsible, especially judging by the leer he gave the poor creature being bound to him.

“Bastard.” Van couldn’t help but growl softly. Though Dilandau remained silent, the look on his face stated that the sentiments were shared.

As the subjects entered into their pods, Shroden approached the two teens and fixed them with a fierce glare. It was the most emotion Van had ever seen from the man and it was more than a little unnerving.

“I expect there to be no problems with these subjects.” He stated in a voice as cold as glacial ice. Those pale grey eyes of his fixed on Dilandau and narrowed dangerously. “If even one test subject is malformed, I’ll be throwing you to the prisoners for their amusement. One day for every malformed body. Should one die... I’ll throw you and your precious anchor to the beastmen.”

“I can’t guarantee their survival!” Dilandau hissed, a faint energist glow lighting up behind his eyes. Shroden simply smiled in response, the expression bore not even the slightest hint of warmth.

“But I can guarantee your punishment. I expect you to be flawless my Eidolon.”

Barring his teeth, the dragonslayer snarled something in zaibachi, the words weren’t familiar but the tone certainly was, Van could almost translate the string of threats being issued at length. He was surprised however when Shroden’s hand lashed out, striking Dilandau hard across the face before grabbing onto his jaw hard enough that there was the very audible creak of bone under pressure.

He had no idea what the sorcerer said, but he did catch the words for Dragonslayer, Fate, lie, and death. Whatever he’d said had a profound effect on Dilandau. His skin, already devoid of colour seemed to go almost translucent for a moment before flushing red with raw fury. His eyes blazed with glowing light, as if lit from behind by dragenergist and he all but shrieked at the man who was tormenting him. Rather than pull away from the now obviously murderous warlord, Shroden simply glanced over at Van and smiled knowingly before looking back at Dilandau, utterly unafraid.

Another short phrase was murmured gloatingly and Dilandau lunged, breaking the hold on his jaw as if it was nothing.

Rather than attack his tormentor, he instead dove at one of the guards, grabbing him by his throat, just under his jaw and crushing the man’s larynx with an audible crunch before throwing him into the others, sending three of them sprawling. The others were quick to respond and immediately spread out to flank the albino, weapons at the ready.

Before Van could even think of moving to aid his companion, several sharp shocks tore into him, shorting out his nervous system and leaving his limbs numb and limp. He almost fell to the floor, but several strong hands caught him and placed him on the table, moving with calm professionalism, as if a fight to the death wasn’t taking place only a few feet away.

His restraints snapped into place but he still couldn’t feel his extremities well enough to know if they were tight and though he heard the whirring of the familiar machinery, warning that his skin was now pierced with half a dozen needles, he didn’t feel a single prick. It was more than a little unnerving, but nothing compared to the wild buildup of power he could feel filling the room. The air seemed to crackle with energy, causing several sparks to trace along the edges of the looming machines ominously and all Van could do was pray that Dilandau didn’t either unleash his wings, to summon a pillar to take him away, leaving Van behind to suffer alone.

A quick nervous glance over in the direction of the fight showed that the dragonslayer had dropped five of the guards already, most of whom looked dead rather than simply injured. He had two of the stun sticks in his hands, a third had been driven through the belly of a guard and the man was currently screaming and writhing madly on the ground around his wound.

Shroden made no move to interfere, he simply watched as another guard fell, the stun staff driven against his skull with enough force to crush bone and pulp brain. Two more fell swiftly afterwards as Dilandau wielded the staves with uncanny skill, tripping one guard neatly before driving the butt end into his throat, then pivoting on the balls of his feat, swinging the staff in a wide arch before switching his grip and driving it down onto the collarbone of another. As the man fell to his knees in pain, the staff was swung again, striking the guards temple and silencing him permanently.

It was only when the albino turned to face the machine itself that the sorcerer stepped forward and barked out an order in zaibachi. Dilandau froze in place, caught in mid swing, the stun staff poised above his head, ready to smash down on a control console. Slender fingers gripped the metal staff hard enough to make the tendons stand out along the length of his arm and every muscle in his body looked tense enough to snap.

Shroden snapped out the order once again and it was obvious now that Dilandau was fighting him with everything he had. Several of the remaining guards moved forward, grabbing the teenager, two to a limb and the young captain screamed like a banshee as they forcibly picked him up and carried him to his table.

Van shuddered at the look on Dilandau’s face. If ever demons existed, he was seeing the face of one now. Gone were the beautiful delicate features, replaced now with a twisted visage. This was the face of rage, of madness unleashed and coupled with those brilliantly burning eyes, he’d become something positively inhuman.

Through it all, he never stopped screaming out his defiance. His limbs might not obey him, but his voice certainly did, at least until the sorcerer snapped at him once again and a deafening silence filled the lab, broken only by the sound of Dilandau’s wild ragged breathes.

Van expected the sorcerer to be enraged by the outburst of violence, but instead, he appeared to be strangely pleased, as if everything was proceeding according to plan.

He watched as the dragonslayer was strapped down to the table and bound securely before walking over and boldly placing his hand on that pale sweat slicked forehead.

“Perfect, just perfect. I have always enjoyed your rage my Eidolon. Ride it’s power, let your pain awaken your potential and birth the next generation of warriors.”

Darkness began to edge Van’s vision and he turned away as he saw the sorcerer’s hand begin to trace it’s way down Dilandau’s bound body, not wanting to see anymore. Knowing that this was likely the last time he would ever close his eyes, he drew in a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs to bursting, thrilling in the sensation, so sharp against the numbness of his body. As he slowly exhaled, he embraced the void as it rushed up to meet him, hoping that this time, the oblivion might be permanent.

 

Everything was burning. Fire rose as higher than the trees it devoured, reducing them to ash and embers which blew on the heated wind, causing the air itself to burn. Smoke was so thick that it blocked out the sun and all around him, squeezing the air out of his lungs and stinging his eyes. Beneath it all, Van could hear screams.

Looking around, he knew that nothing could still be alive down there in that hellish inferno, but still the screams persisted, as if the charred bones of the dead were begging for reprieve, skeletal fingers reaching up to the sky even as they crumbled and blew away.

Super heated winds tore at his wings even as waves of sparks threatened to set his feathers alight, forcing him to fly higher and higher, above the greedy reach of the flames and the world become swallowed by smoke. The air threatened to choke him with every breath, coating his lungs with burning ash, searing his body inside and out. Instinct screamed at him to retreat, to hide, but there was nowhere to go. Everything was on fire in this searing apocalypse.

He wasn’t sure where he was exactly, the destruction was too all encompassing to make out any landmarks, but he could see that once there had been a great sprawling city laid out beneath them. It’s towers and colonnades scorched black and crumbling even as he watched. Great buildings which had once brushed the sky fell before his eyes, shaking the earth itself with the massive impact, creating tornado’s of fire from the displaced air.

As far as the eye could see, greedy flames licked their way across the land, ravaging distant forests and mountains alike. It bathed the ground like an ocean of orange, not moving, not travelling relentlessly across the land and leaving nothing but scorched earth beneath. No, it spread like water, coating everything in it’s path and remaining there... eating its way down to the bedrock beneath, then slowly, inexorably melting that down into a vicious molten flow.

In the center of it all, flying high above this fiery apocalypse flew Dilandau. His pale flesh and wings reflected the surging flames so perfectly that he appeared to be created from fire, a wild elemental let loose upon the land, cheering on the destruction.

His laugh echoed over the roar of the flames, high, piercing and full of delight. Even as Van stared in horror, those beautiful wings flared and beat at the fire, causing it to surge hotter, hungrier than before, urging it to burn until everything was consumed.

“DILANDAU!” Van screamed, his wings beating at the ash filled air, driving him towards the maddened albino. “Dilandau stop this!”

Hearing him, Dilandau spun neatly in place and grinned at the young king. The look was one of pure madness, bringing back memories of the final battles of the war. His manic grin nearly split his face in half as he laughed and those eyes... sweet gods of Gaea, those eyes shone brighter than the fires surrounding them.

“Vaaaaan” The dragonslayer crooned. “Isn’t it beautiful? Dance with me! Dance with me in the flames. Feel their sweet caress as everything burns!” He extended his hands in open invitation, the grin shifting into something beatific. With every beat of his wings the surrounding flames rose up, heeding his call as obediently as an eager pup.

With a snap of his wings, the tower of fire rushed away, slamming into the remains of a once great ziggurat. As the building fell, more screams filled the air and Dilandau’s head lolled back, suffused with utter ecstasy.

Enraged, Van grabbed one of the proffered arms and spun the pale draconian around sharply, glaring into those mad eyes.

“What are you doing!? Stop this!” He gave Dilandau several vicious shakes, each one hard enough to give the other boy whiplash, but that did nothing to stop the gleeful cackling.

“Van... Van... It’s too late for that. Fly with me! Watch the world burn with me. Isn’t it beautiful? We can dance forever in the flames!” Acting as if he wasn’t even aware of the death grip Van had on him, Dilandau reached an arm out towards the fire, trying to stroke it lovingly. It was simply too much for the young king to take. He’d seen too many kingdoms burn, heard too many victims screaming out their final agony as their bones were licked black by the greedy tongues of flames. There was a crack of a fist colliding with flesh and Dilandau was sent spinning away, blood spraying from his mouth.

Before he’d even finished spiralling, the dragonslayers wings flared out, the tips of his feathers slicing across Van’s chest like blades, cutting through flesh and muscle easily.

Beneath them, the fire drank their blood as it fell, feasting hungrily while up above, beyond the clouds of smoke and ash, the shadowy shapes of draconians could be seen, circling endlessly, their blackened feathers falling as flakes of ash.

Neither youth paid attention to either phenomena. All they saw was their opponent, all they felt was the rage which had been bottled up inside them for too long bursting forth, sending them against each other with a fury which dwarfed that of the firestorm around them.

Dilandau lunched at Van, his wings slashing out once more, shedding razor sharp feathers in a lethal spray. Several embedded themselves deeply into flesh while others tore at Van’s wings. It was agonizing, debilitating, but he wasn’t beaten yet, not by a long shot. With a savage yell, Van tore a feather from his own wings, swinging it at his opponent in a deadly arc. As it cut through the air, the pinion elongated and sharpened, becoming a sword sharper than any mere metal.

The albino barely avoided the attack, losing several feathers as he twisted out of the way. Snarling in response, he beat his wings once more, causing the fire to surge up, driving Van back as the heat threatened to overwhelm him.

“What’s the matter Vaaan?” Dilandau crooned softly, amusement filling his voice as he spoke around his giggles. “If you didn’t want to burn, you shouldn’t have been made out of something so flammable. It’s really all your fault...” Another wave of fire raced towards the king, but he barrel rolled, diving around it before it could surge properly. He hit the dragonslayer hard, driving them both downwards. He had no plan, no great strategy other than getting Dilandau out of the air.

They hit the unforgiving ground with bone shattering force. Both their wings dissolving upon impact as they rolled free of each other. Fire licked at their feet as they both struggled to rise on wobbly legs, their gazes locked on each other, lips pulled back into near identical snarls.

“Why are you doing this!?” Van screamed, his voice barely heard over the roaring flames. Nearby, another great column fell, nearly crushing them both beneath itself. As it shattered apart, Van saw the carvings decorating it’s surface. Beautiful men and women standing with arms uplifted to the sky, wings spread in supplication. The view only lasted for a moment before the fire consumed it, burning stone as easily as it did flesh.

“Why? Why? You never ask the right questions Van.” Dilandau chuckled, idly flicking smouldering embers from his arm and glancing at the burning column, that mad smile twisting his face once more. “You already know the answer. It twists inside you, clawing it’s way out. Can’t you feel it?” Glowing crimson eyes glanced skyward, seeing the dark shapes circling above even as dark feathers fell in a soft rain around them.

One struck the back of Van’s hand, crumbling on impact, leaving a bloody smear of ash in it’s wake. The king stared at it for a long moment, horrified, fascinated... unable to look away as his mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. It was always those black feathers, those circling draconians calling to them, beseeching them to join in their endless circling. Only... the feathers weren’t the same black as Folken’s had been... his brothers feathers had still been lustrous, beautiful in their own way, like the feathers of a raven, trapping all colours within their depths. All his life experiences, his hopes and dreams... his destiny trapped within that darkness, waiting to be snuffed out.

These feathers were ash, there were no colours trapped within, only death... they weren’t the black of impending death because it was already long passed, they were burned.

“This is Atlantis.” Van gasped, spinning around, trying to see the once breathtaking city now buried in flames. “We’re in Atlantis!” He wasn’t sure if he was more scared or horrified, perhaps an equal measure of both. There was no time for him to truly grasp the full impact of what it all meant because Dilandau, lacking any other feathers to wield, grabbed the one single shining plume which hung from his neck. As it had with Van, the shining white quill elongated into a blade just as the dragonslayer attacked. Acting on pure reflex, Van grabbed the feather around his own neck and felt it shift as well, just in time to block the blow.

It all happened so fast that he was barely able to register the wild flare of power rising up around them and not enough to react to the screams of warning inside their heads before the two blades collided. As they met, there was a moment of utter silence, where everything seemed to hang in the balance, teetering on that terrible pinnacle between salvation and oblivion... then... everything tipped.

The explosion shattered the world around them. Power, light, sound... it was everywhere, it was everything and the two combatants were swept away with the rest of reality into nothingness.

 

_“_ _Oh Van, I don’t know why you’re so worried, Tristen will do fine on his tests.” Hitomi smiled over at him, warmth radiating from both her voice and her eyes as she reached out and gently cupped Van’s cheek with her hand, pulling him into a loving kiss._

_Her hair was longer, her face bearing the first hint of age lines, but she was still the most beautiful woman Van had ever seen and just looking at her warmed him down to his very toes. She wore the strange clothes of her world, though for once he didn’t see them as mannish or scandalous. Instead they were familiar, as familiar as the strange world surrounding him. Great carts made out of metal raced past them at incredible rates of speed and towering buildings made almost entirely of glass and light reached up to touch the sky. The air had that familiar foul oily taste and was clogged with half a hundred strange smells, some pleasant, others not so much. It was dizzying, terrifying, and oddly comforting, because he knew on some level that he was here by choice, his life shared with this dazzling woman._

_“I know he will.” Van muttered, pulling away from the kiss after a moment and glancing over at the line in the nearby coffee shop, wondering if maybe they should just head to the next one. “But we spent all night working on those questions. It would break his heart to not make top marks.”_

_Hitomi laughed lightly and smiled at him. For a moment, Van could see the brilliant and spirited sixteen year old girl he’d met so long ago and he found himself smiling at her good humour._

_“You mean it would break your heart.” She chided playfully. “I swear, you love studying history more than our son.”_

_“Well, it’s history to you but all new to me.” Van argued lightly, wrapping an arm around her waist and motioning with his chin towards the shop down the street. The line would likely be better there and he only had twenty minutes left on his lunch break._

_“Do you still miss it?” Hitomi asked softly as they walked to their new destination. “Gaea I mean... You were a king there, a hero. Here, you’re just a sales manager.”_

_“Hey now, I’m more than just a sales manager.” He smiled down at his wife for a moment then turned his gaze upwards to where he knew his home world lurked, hidden from human perception by Atlantean magic. “I’m your husband, I’m a father and soon if I play my cards right and stay on Mather’s good side, I’ll be region manager by this time next year.”_

_He gave her a little hug though his eyes remained on that space in the sky so far up above, wondering if at this moment, some Gaean child was looking up at the Mystic Moon and dreaming of it’s mysteries._

_“But you had a kingdom, a castle... Escaflowne.”_

_The smile faded from his face and he looked down at her, his beloved wife, hero of the Destiny War and saviour of Gaea._

_“My kingdom was little more than ash and my castle was rubble.” There was sadness in his voice, but the sting of the loss had faded over the years and distance. Fanelia was long gone now, claimed by the dragons once more, her people scattered across the land. “As for Escaflowne, no one should have that much power.” A shiver stole across his skin at the memory of his many battles. How that brilliant energy had flowed through him, urging him to fight, to destroy. So many had fallen to his blade, lives forever lost on the paths of the dead._

_Escaflowne was a tool of war and nothing more. It deserved to rest in peace with the rest of Gaea, a weapon from a time now passed and best forgotten._

_“I... I just don’t want you to ever resent your decision to join me.” Hitomi whispered softly, her cheeks colouring prettily. “I don’t want you to regret Tristen, or me.”_

_Pausing in mid step, Van gently turned Hitomi around so that they faced each other, both ignoring the grumbles from the other pedestrians who suddenly had to veer away or crash into them._

_“I could never regret either of you. You two are my world and nothing else matters more than spending the rest of my life with you both. I want to grow old with you Hitomi. I want to see Tristen grow up and share the same happiness I feel when he discovers his perfect love. I made my choices and I have never regretted them.” Leaning forwards, he gently pressed his lips to hers, savouring the warmth that filled his being, knowing that in her arms, he was home._

 

_“Close in on my mark” Dilandau grinned as he fired off a shot at the fleeing fleet of ships, knowing without a doubt that he’d tagged his target. A quick glance at his monitor showed that the beacon was functioning perfectly, enabling them to track the Crusade no matter where it hid._

_“The storm is about to hit in T minus ten seconds.” Gatti’s voice warned over the coms._

_“Fucking fate storms.” Dallet grumbled. “I thought we were past all that crap. Didn’t the Madoushi say that we were past all that?”_

_“Cut the chatter and fall in.” Dilandau snapped, noting the warning lights flashing across his sensors. “Shesta, you’re too far out. Adjust your angle by fifteen percent then level out. Miguel, anchor me.” Even as he spoke, he felt the first hints of turbulence assault his Oreades moments before there was a sharp jolt. It didn’t even occur to him to be worried, he trusted his lieutenant to hold him steady as he took his hands off of his controls and closed his eyes, centering himself the way his Master had instructed him._

_Damn Folken, screwing up a perfectly good plan with his sanctimonious heroism. Bringing that damn moon bitch to the Capital, to the Emperor and killing him right on the cusp of their flawless victory. No one knew exactly what she’d done, but their perfect future hadn’t turned out to be the utopia they’d expected._

_Sure, it was the exact sort of future Dilandau could have dreamed of, making him often wonder if perhaps the Great machine had given him this gift and said screw the rest of Gaea._

_Not only had he been gifted with the beautiful sight of watching those bastards Van and Schezar battle each other over his damaged unit, but he’d witnessed that Fanelian demon cut down the blond menace right there in front of him. As much as he’d wanted to take his revenge and kill Schezar himself, it was still more than satisfying to see that ugly antique guymelef fall to the ground, it’s sword snapped in two, it’s cockpit pierced by Van’s blade._

_As the king had stood there staring down at the blood slowly dripping from the hole he’d made, it had been child’s play to aim his remaining arm at the back of Escaflowne and activate a crima claw._

_That scream... ahhhh that scream was so perfect, so beautiful. He’d savour it for the rest of his life. It was a balm against the sting of his scar, the terrible wounds to his pride, and he savoured the memory whenever he could._

_He let the calm of those moments of victory wash over him, flowing through him and into the storm which raged just on the outskirts of their formation. Fate storms were lethal if you were caught out in them. Leviships offered some protection, so long as there was enough activated energist on board to shield the crew as they huddled together in the ships heart, but guymelef were simply too small. Anyone foolish enough to be caught out in one could expect to be forever changed by the effects._

_Some victims found themselves bonded with whatever was nearby, their bodies shattered and dying from the shock once the storm passed by. Others aged a hundred years in the blink of an eye, or grew so young that they were little more than trembling zygotes lying buried in a pile of clothes._

_The best however were the Fate Born. Strange beings who lived within the storms, as much victim as predator. The instant they left the strange energies of their home storm most of them would die, their strange new bodies suddenly subjected to the cruel and mundane reality of the real world. Often they gathered into packs and attacked anything foolish enough to attempt to weather the anomaly._

_Only the Dragonslayers were immune, and that made them the most valuable unit on Gaea. Dilandau alone had the ability to resist the storms, creating pockets of stability within even the fiercest of storms, protecting his men from it’s mystical ravaging. As for the predators hidden within it’s depths... should they breach the perimeter of the formation, it would be the same as exiting the storm, and they all desperately avoided the squad._

_“Target sighted at 350 by 1400” Dimly he was aware of Gatti’s voice on the com. “No Fate Born in sight. Prepare to engage and remember to not leave the perimeter.”_

_“For Emperor Dornkirk.” Miguel murmured reverently. The words were repeated by fourteen other throats, drawing a faint smile from Dilandau as he maintained his focus on keeping his men alive. While he wanted to take part in this battle, he could acknowledge that the unit was better served with him in this capacity. Besides, reports stated that spies had acquired a personal item of Princess Eries at long last. With that, he’d finally be able to track down the damn war leader and rip the heart out of the remaining resistance._

_Within a week, Astoria would be no more. After that, the rest of Gaea would fall in line, then, the Dragonslayers could set their sighs on new prey, beyond Zaibach’s eastern mountain range._

_Life was perfect._

 

_“Look out!” Van dove for Hitomi, hitting her in the midsection and sending them both rolling across the shattered pavement as the ground exploded where they’d been standing moment’s before._

_The two teenagers struggled to their feet, their bodies bruised and bloody, their heads ringing. The ground shook and the air rippled around them as the cloaked Alseides took a step closer, releasing the crima claw and allowing it to burst into super heated blue flames._

_A nearby explosion shattered the windows of the buildings around them, spraying glass in all directions and Hitomi screamed as one particularly large shard tore across her arm, sliding deep into the muscle. There was no time to bind the wound as the invisible guymelef took aim at them once again._

_Both teenagers sensed the attack coming and they dove to the side as more of the road was torn up in their wake. At least this time they both kept their feet under them and raced into a narrow alley, hoping to throw off their pursuer even for a few moments._

_Up above there was the roar of powerful engines and the scream of jets streaking through the sky followed by the staccato thunder of gunfire as the Mystic Moon’s forces laid waste to the street they’d just vacated. Moments later, the air was filled with fire and debris as one of the great machines exploded, but neither Van nor Hitomi were sure who the victor was, if any._

_“We... we need to get somewhere safe!” Hitomi panted loudly, her skin pale from the loss of blood, forcing her to waste a precious moment tearing off a strip of her shirt and wrapping it tightly around the wound._

_“Nowhere is safe!” Van argued. “Not with that damn floating fortress up there!” Neither of them had to look up to know that it still lurked, ominously hovering above the city, surrounded by hundreds of Alseides units and smaller ships. It waged a constant war with the forces of the Mystic Moon, leaving the city in an unending state of siege as more of Zaibach’s seemingly limitless forces appeared in beams of light._

_“This is all my fault!” Hitomi moaned as the two burst into a run once again, dodging around burned out cars, shattered shopfronts and more broken bodies than they dared to count. “They followed me into the Mystic Valley!” Tears blurred her vision as she recalled that moment when she realized that she’d led the enemy straight to her home world. Now Zaibach had learned to harness the strange rifts between worlds which had previously been random and sporadic._

_They could appear anywhere in an instant, attack without warning and they ruthlessly exploited this power at every turn, and now they were here in Japan. Everyone Hitomi had ever known was in terrible danger and there was nothing she could do to stop it!_

_“Well look at what we have here...” The familiar mechanized purr froze both teenagers in their tracks as they stared up at the rippling space in front of them. The air itself seemed to peel back, revealing the crimson behemoth beneath. It’s massive arm aimed directly at them. “Just the moon bitch I was looking for, and Van! Oh Van... You’ve made me so very very happy.” Dilandau purred in pleasure, his manic giggle echoing across the empty street._

_Van opened his mouth, ready to yell out a challenge to his nemesis, but the words didn’t get a chance to pass his lips before the liquid flames engulfed them both, melting flesh and bone instantly. They never even felt the heat before they died, or heard the giggles become insane laughter as the flames were then turned on the surrounding buildings, lighting everything on fire and eliminating any evidence of their existence._

 

_Van stared at Balgus nervously and toyed with the hem on his overly elaborate ceremonial robes. He hated the damn things and felt like he was several sizes too small for the them. Still, his counsellors had insisted that he had to wear them, just as he had to wear the crown, and stand in the Grand Courtyard along with hundreds of his courtiers. All he’d wanted was something nice and private, an intimate ceremony rather than this huge state of affair._

_“Stop fidgeting Your Highness.” Balgus rumbled quietly at his side, giving the young king an amused glance before noting how the High Priest of Jeture straightened up, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Your future wife approaches. Try to look... kingly.”_

_“Like she cares.” He replied nervously. “She thinks that this is all a terrible waste of resources. The feast alone could feed a village for a month this winter.”_

_“Yes, but this union will feed that village for far longer and honestly your Highness, your people need this. They’ve been through so much, let them forget their woes for a single day and celebrate their king’s happiness.” Van blushed hotly, unable to argue that statement and thankfully, he didn’t have to. Music swelled grandly, announcing the arrival of his beautiful wife to be and Van spun around to see her, propriety be damned!_

_A wide grin split his face nearly in two as he stared at the beauty approaching at a demure pace along the white carpet. He barely noticed Allen at her side, dressed in the formal uniform of a Knight Caeli and proudly displaying his numerous medals of valour._

_Holding his hand and moving with such liquid grace that she appeared to be almost unreal was the woman he loved, the woman he’d dreamed of for years, even before their formal betrothal. She was beautiful beyond words, her long platinum blonde hair gleaming almost silver in the sunlight, held back by a diadem made up of crystal and ornately styled golden wire. Her long white gown flowed with every movement of her slender body, accenting her pale skin and brilliant blue eyes which shone as they met his gaze._

_For a moment, he saw her roll those eyes and smile a somewhat crooked mirthful smile, as if to mock the extravagance of the occasion though he could see that inwardly, she was simply thrilled to be here, walking towards him and preparing to join their lives together._

_He was so fixated on her that he lost track of all passage of time and before he knew it, she was at his side, Allen gently placing her hand on his with a softly worded “If you hurt her, I will pluck out every feather you have and weave them into a cloak for Sherezade.”_

_Celena gasped softly and gave her brother a playful swat before bestowing her brilliant smile on Van and giving his hand a little squeeze._

_“Don’t worry Van, he said nothing of me hurting you, so after this is all over, shall I show you these lovely toys princess Millerna sent me?” She whispered softly, her voice not carrying beyond the four of them. Van had to bite back a laugh as Balgus nearly choked on his own tongue and Allen shot them both a scandalized look. Acting as if nothing untoward had been said, Celena merely smiled demurely up at the priest and Van gave him a nod to begin._

_The priest could have said anything, done anything, and neither of them would have noticed. They only had eyes for each other and Van required a discreet nudge from Balgus to let him know that it was time to exchange rings._

_How he managed to slip the energist adorned ring onto her finger without dropping it in his sudden nervousness was a miracle all of it’s own and feeling the weight of his own ring sliding across his flesh, warmed by the heat of her fingers was almost more than his heart could take._

_This is what he’d done it all for. Hunted the dragon, fought the war, protected his kingdom and it’s people... for this moment when he could look into the eyes of his wife and see the love he had for her reflected back in her eyes. It was perfect, utterly perfect._

_“Kiss me you dolt.” Celena chuckled softly, making him realize that he’d been staring again and lost track of the world around him. “Unless there’s another woman you were planning on marrying?” Her smile made his heart sing, it was loving and wicked all at once and he knew that this woman was more than a lover, more than his closest friend. She was his soul and he would love her until the sun itself burned out._

_“Only you.” He murmured, pulling her close and gently pressing his lips to hers chastely. “For now and all time.” Her lips smiled against his, and she deepened the kiss, stopping just short of becoming scandalous._

_Around them, the crowd cheered and both Allen and Balgus looked away, their cheeks colouring hotly at the open display of love taking place. It was the start of a new age of prosperity for Fanelia, Van knew it with every fibre of his being. Together, he and his queen could accomplish anything._

 

_Dilandau stood on a familiar plateau in Freid, surrounded by fourteen sections of scorched earth burned down to the bedrock, the stone beneath turned to twisted black glass by the heat. Throwing his head back, he screamed out his rage and despair but his voice was swallowed up by the storm swirling around them. Beyond the edges of the plateau, strangely coloured lightning flashed and twisted creatures tore at the boundaries, eager to reach those huddled within the zone of calmness. Greedy eyes watched with a focus that only pure insanity could bring and the pressed closer, eager to feast._

_The trembling albino stood he had once so long ago when his men had fallen, his hands outstretched, as if to gather their spirits to him, the glint of a dagger, previously hidden by his hands becomes visible in a flash of brilliant crimson lightning, it’s blade shining with deadly promise._

_At the edge of the plateau, unnervingly close to the storms shifting wall and hungry inhabitants, Gaddes yelled as he struggled against the restraining arms of his friends, trying to reach the pale boy, blind to the risks. The others held him back but their eyes grew wide with horror as they bore witness to a scene out of their worst nightmares unfolding around them. The desire to stop it is strong in all of them, but they knew the risks, they’d accepted the cost._

_One by one, the mounds of black glass scattered about began to glow with an eerie blue light which flickered, cerulean flames rising up from their hearts. They twist and writhe, eventually taking the shapes of young men. Cut down in the primes of their lives, they still bear the gruesome wounds which had sent them to their glassy graves. There was no mistaking their identities, and all of the living gathered there upon that blasted plateau held their breath in silent dread._

_The Dragonslayers turn to face the lone living youth in their midst and as one, began to move towards him. Their shattered bodies lifted up into the air, terrible wounds closing as they became little more than swirls of light illuminated by the constant flashes of lightning tearing apart the blasted desert and the lands beyond._

_They ensconced their captain in their spectral light, but Gaddes could still see that terrible moment when the blade plunged downwards. He heard the sound of steel piercing flesh and bone and saw the crimson spray as it was caught by the swirling ghosts. Their light seemed to flare brilliantly, blinding everyone before fading rapidly._

_Blinking his eyes, determined to clear his vision, Gaddes watched as the ghosts gained solidity, becoming as real as the beautiful pale youth who was sinking down to the ground, his body falling forward, into the arms of his Dragonslayers. They caught him easily, lowering him with gentle reverence and laying his body to rest before slowly rising to their feet._

_There’s now sixteen young men standing there on the plateau, their translucent bodies shining dimly in the light of the storm before being swept away from the world forever. The men release Gaddes who races forward in horror, screaming in denial as he faell to his knees next to Dilandau’s bloody form._

_Through his grief, the sergeant can’t help but note how strangely peaceful the albino looks, how young and innocent. One might easily miss noticing the gaping hole in his chest where his heart had once been, or the bloody energist now cradled in his hands, shining as brilliantly as those eyes once had in life._

_In his grief, Gaddes never noticed the storm stopping or the screams of the warped beasts as they fade away into nothingness, the terrible storm dissipating.. He can’t see anything through his tears. All he can do is sob over his loss, lamenting his mistakes, his hesitations and the love he’d never understood until it was too late._

 

_Van looks up into the strange alien sky and see’s the deadly tail poised above him, driving down with all the force the enraged dragon can muster. He never feels the spine pierce him, tearing through flesh and bone with ease, never hears the belated cries from the strange Mystic Moon villagers._

_As he sinks to his knees, all he can do is wonder if Folken had felt like this in his last moments and if he’ll finally be reunited with his beloved brother, his mother... his father. He knows that Balgus will be shattered but he believes that the great warrior will find a way to help Fanelia continue on._

_The blood rushes out of his body, the dragon shrieks and the tail strikes him a second time, this time sending his shattered body across the temple grounds. He never feels a thing, he is at peace._

 

_Van smiles widely as he stands atop the mountain pass and looks down at the burning countryside below. He hears the screams of his countrymen but they mean nothing to him. They’d wanted him to die, to throw away his life the way his brother had, the way his mother and father had._

_Their legends had meant more than his life or the life of his family, trapping them all in a terrible cycle of blood and death. Well now the death was theirs and his chains were broken._

_Turning away from the carnage, he glanced down at Merle, his on true ally. Ever faithful, he knew that she’d follow him anywhere, love him no matter what he did. Though tears poured from her eyes and her body shook with horror, she dutifully shadowed him. He was her world after all. He’d made sure of that._

 

_An army flew behind him, banners whipping in the wind and blood boiling in their veins as they surged across the land, taking back what had been stolen, revenging themselves upon the fallen and leaving nothing but carnage in their wake._

_The men and women of Zaibach had found a new and glorious leader, one who promised them a great and shining future where they would make their own destinies rather than having one imposed upon them. At first, they’d been hesitant, fearful. Hadn’t they already lost one great battle? Weren’t they already struggling enough under the strict censures of their neighbours?_

_He’d slaughtered those who’d stood against him, led skirmishes, then battles against their enemies, bringing back food and riches, reclaimed lost technology and pride. Under his encouragement they learned to walk tall once again, learned to want and more importantly, to take._

_Now they followed him gladly as he flew on bloody wings above the many fortresses, a spectral honour guard flanking him as he descended upon their newest target. A shining city where the inhabitants had grown fat on their own largess, smug in their hubris. The streets would run red in the streets and the paths of the dead would be packed with the newly lost. A new and deadly age was dawning and once all of Gaea’s lands were conquered, crimson eyes would turn heavenwards where the Mystic Moon shone like a beacon._

_Yes, there were always new worlds to conquer._

 

Futures, alternate realities, fates both familiar and bizarre assaulted their senses until neither knew what was reality any longer. They began to bleed into one another, flickering faster and faster, some showing nothing more than the briefest of snippets while others forced them to live nearly entire lives.

The stream seemed to never end, there was always a new life to live, a new reality to witness. It became their existence, a reality in and of itself though through it all, there was always the sense of the other, even if only on the periphery of their awareness. No matter how far apart the realities took them, they could still feel the other lurking somewhere in the back of their mind and it calmed them, gave them a point of reference through the chaos.

 

Dilandau had no idea when it ended, or if this was just another life to be lived when he found himself in the darkness and sprawled out on the cold metal floor. His body ached with exhaustion the likes of which he’d never felt before and every breath caused his head to spin in a rather alarming fashion.

Taking in careful breaths, he struggled to orient himself with his other senses. While his sight might be gone, his hearing picked up the groans of others nearby, the sound of strained breathing and through the floor, he could feel a strange stillness. There was no baseline hum of machinery which had been such a norm for his entire life that it’s absence was keenly felt.

Power outage. His mind supplied. Emergency systems appeared to be offline as well seeing as how there wasn’t even any ambient lighting. What in all of the vagaries of Fate had happened?

Instinct warned him to stay quiet and move low to the floor, using his hands to feel for obstacles in his way as well as any changed in temperature which might warn him of another person before he touched them.

He was in the labs, the smell told him that much and inwardly, he hoped that whatever had happened had done so before the experiment had reached it’s completion. Knowing that Tseng had died, a half formed wretch of a thing would be intensely satisfying. The Moon Bitch had decreed that seven would live... Were her visions set in stone? Could they be changed?

Did it matter at this moment? Priorities idiot! He chided himself harshly. “You’re unarmed deep in enemy territory. You can’t see, you’re too weak to fight and if you don’t escape now, you’ll face a fate far worse than death!” There was no doubt that Shroden would carry out his vile threat. The man simply didn’t bluff. It didn’t even occur to him to do so.

If the Moon Bitch was right, then three of the test subjects were dead... that meant three days. He felt sick just thinking about what that would mean. Worse, Tseng being dead was a very real possibility, that meant he had to get out of here at all costs. Revenge couldn’t be served if he died first, and all Shroden had to do was order his surrender. Bastard.

Rather than paw around in the darkness, he focused for a moment on Van, knowing that his abilities would lead him unerringly to the king no matter where he was hidden.

There! Just off to the right and ahead ten paces! He could feel the warm pulse of familiar power and took comfort in its presence. When had Van changed from a disquieting anomaly in his head which urged him to hunt and kill, to becoming a beacon of safety? What was his brain doing up there? Still, he didn’t have time to contemplate his own strangeness. No one deserved to be left in this hellhole... at least no one he gave a rats ass about.

Reaching the still form of the king, he gently stretched out a hand and touched warm skin. Good, he was still alive. At least, that’s what he would have thought if in that instant, hands hadn’t grabbed onto his wrist and twisted sharply, sending him to the floor hard enough to drive the air out of his lungs. Dammit! He was really getting sick of Van pulling that damn stunt!

“It’s me!” He hissed as softly as he could, bracing for the blow he expected to follow. Instead, the hand holding his twisted once more, pulling him closer and he found himself wrapped up in a rather tight hug which threatened to fuse his ribs together.

“Oh sweet gods!” Van gasped. “What’s going on? What the hell was that!? We need to get out of here!”

“We are.” Dilandau assured him confidently, even as his mind was racing in a mad panic, trying to figure out just how exactly his body was going to pull off such a bold claim.

“You’ve got a plan to get us out of a heavily guarded facility in the pitch blackness when we’re unarmed and can barely walk?” Honestly, did he have to sound so skeptical? Who did he think he was talking to?

“Trust me. I’m a professional.”

“Been in this sort of situation a lot have you?” Van was getting rather good at the backtalk, it was sort of impressive though his timing was terrible.

Dilandau had to admit that the situation did look rather dire. On the other hand, he had more than one trick up his sleeve, and he wasn’t anywhere near ready to give up. Oh no. He had a facility to escape, a war to fight and a gloriously bloody revenge to plan out. Shroden might escape today with his miserable disgusting hide intact, but the man was on borrowed time.

“Just follow me and stop talking.” He ordered, knowing that if they were awake, others likely were conscious too and the last thing they needed was for some enterprising idiot to follow their voices.

“I can’ t walk.” Van murmured, sounding honestly apologetic. “Whatever they did... or what happened after... it took everything out of me. I can barely keep my eyes open.” Well, that wasn’t encouraging, but there was no way Dilandau was going to admit to a similar weakness. No, better to let the proud little king think that he was the one slowing them down.

Reaching out carefully, he took Van’s hand in his, then placed it on his ankle.

“If you can’t walk, you crawl. Surrender is not an option ever.” He’used to always say the same thing to his squad, back when they were still alive, still undefeated. It had served them well back then and would damn well do so once more. “Keep your hand there and move with me. I’ll lead us out.” With that he began to move with cautious yet deliberate movements, feeling his way around obstacles and avoiding bodies laying on the floor. There was a surprising number of the latter, making him wonder just what had happened while they were lost in... whatever in the nine hells that was.

“What about Shroden?” Dilandau winced slightly as the question seemed to taunt him, mocking him for choosing survival over revenge. Van had no doubt noticed that they were heading up the slight incline and out of the lab’s center. “I can kill him for you!”

“You can’t even hold a knife right now. We can’t risk capture. Your Moon Bitch said there’d be a war, and she’s always right, right?” He didn’t need to see Van to know that he was nodding his head. “So that means these bastards live. We’ll fight them again when the odds are in our favour. Right now, we need to escape and that’s going to be hard enough as it is. Let’s not add to that... unless you want to spend a few days getting gang raped by half mad beast men. I don’t imagine that would be a good time, but hey, everyone enjoys different things...”

“Get us out of here.” The kings voice sounded both strained and sickened and Dilandau felt himself grinning despite the danger of the situation.

As he moved, he focused on the little flashes of insight his instincts provided, heading in whatever direction his body seemed to drift towards. It wasn’t foolproof, there was more than one time in the past where he’d ended up in a completely different place than he’d originally intended, but it had always worked out in some way, making the mistaken destination the better choice. His luck had better hold today, he thought as he shifted a little more to the left, moving around another source of vague warmth which was likely a guard.

When his fingertips touched the door he gave a faint sigh of relief, which quickly turned to surprise when it opened with little resistance. The locks had deactivated? That was odd. It must be a Basram thing because in Zaibach, the doors locked during a power outage. This had proven to be a bit of a safety hazard at times as far as Dilandau was concerned, but it did keep people from poking around in areas they shouldn’t when security was off attempting to get things back online. Not that he’d ever made a habit of wandering around in off limit areas... nope...not him.

The hallways stank of raw meat and exposed viscera. The smell caught him off guard and he gagged for a moment, a hand rising up to cover his mouth and ward off some of the stench.

“Bloody Fate, what the hell happened here?” He swore softly, hearing Van echo his words while retching softly behind him. Had there been an attack? A coup? This didn’t smell like a small wound. Someone had been split wide open and their entrails left exposed to the world. Still, there was no sound of movement, nor any hint of breathing, so whoever had died here was beyond posing a problem.

Grimacing in disgust, Dilandau began moving forwards once more, gritting his teeth as the stench grew stronger. Oddly enough... the hall was growing marginally warmer as well. That was odd.

Placing his right hand down on the floor, he jerked it back sharply when it encountered not cold stone, but smooth warm wet flesh.

“Everything alright?” Van asked, his voice too exhausted to hold much concern despite the danger they were in.

“Found the source of the stink I think.” Dilandau murmured in reply, giving his hand a disgusted shake and shifting slightly to the side to get around the corpse. Only... the ground here was warm and slick and soft as well. In fact, everywhere he felt was like touching flesh.

Curiosity warred with exhaustion as he felt along the edges, trying to work out in his head just how much of the hallway was raw meat. It seemed to have melded with the stone, the two materials joining together seamlessly and to make it worse, the flesh quivered slightly, as if reacting to his probing touches.

Oh sweet fucked up fate, it was still alive! How was that even possible?

“Van... just keep moving ahead no matter what you feel. Don’t stop, and try not to think about it.” He ordered, forcing his own body to comply. The floor, even the walls were flesh. Not just simple flesh either. He could feel tendons flexing beneath his hands as he crawled past. Muscles twitching as they tried to move... they were inside someone, or something. As insane and impossible as it sounded, somehow, the tunnel had become a living thing.

“Are we maybe still inside one of those weird realities?” Van cautiously hazarded, sounding about as disgusted as Dilandau felt.

“Yeah... but I think this one really is ours, or else we wouldn’t be wondering about this, we’d just be accepting it.”

“We’re crawling through someone Dilandau. How could anyone just accept that?” Alright, the king had him on that one. This was pretty messed up even for his strange life, and he liked to think that he’d set the bar pretty high on wierdness.

“Just find a way to accept it and keep moving. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can have our nervous breakdowns.” For once the fanelian king didn’t argue with him and they shuffled through the slick twitching hallway, both infinitely glad that they couldn’t see anything.

 

“Are we heading back to the cells?” Van piped up after several long minutes of tense silence.

They’d left the flesh hallway behind a few minutes ago and both of the had let out an unconscious breath of relief at the feel of cold unforgiving stone beneath them once more. Neither offered up any explanation on how something like that could have happened but both knew that it hadn’t been there earlier. Someone would have noticed.

Dilandau had been so focused on that little intuitive prodding in the back of his mind that he hadn’t really been paying much attention to where they were actually going, just where they had to go. Now that Van had mentioned it though, he mentally reviewed their travels and realized that yes, that’s exactly where they were going, and for damn good reason.

“Yes.”

“Why? I thought we were escaping!”

“We are.” He could hear Van grinding his teeth as he struggled not to argue during their escape. “Kamata.” Dilandau stated simply. “We’re not leaving without him.”

“Oh for the love of all the gods... Dilandau, it’s a dragon. A wild dragon and we’re unarmed in a pitch black building. Your stupid pet is going to eat us!” While he did admit if only to himself that yes, the king was right and this did sound to be a particularly insane plan, even for him, he trusted in his abilities and wasn’t about to start second guessing them now when they’d kept him alive this long.

“Just trust me dammit.” He growled, moving forward once more and feeling Van follow albeit reluctantly behind him. It wasn’t easy going, even while crawling and each step made him wonder just what horrible thing he might come in contact with next.

The only reason either of them were taking this as well as they were was due to sheer and utter exhaustion. Despite his superhuman stamina, his limbs felt like lead and the room continued to spin. The darkness did nothing to help him with his equilibrium, but he forced himself to keep moving and follow those little directional urges.

By the time they reached the door, he could tell that Van was about ready to fall over. He was shuffling more than crawling and several times he’d nearly fallen over. Dilandau would have offered to try to carry him on his back, but knew that not even his own remarkable endurance would handle the strain. Hence, why they needed the damn dragon. Honestly, how could Van not see that?

This time the door was ajar, hanging on it’s hinges as if some force had tried to tear it free. A light flickered deep within the room, giving them only momentary glimpses of what lay beyond.

A body, one of the guards appeared to be what had hit the door. Every bone in his body had shattered and nearly torn themselves out through his skin. They shone like shining slick shrapnel whenever the light flickered, but the true horror was the guards face. His mask had been ripped off with the impact, revealing what was left of his features.

“Don’t look” Dilandau warned, fully aware that he was too late to stop his companion from doing so. He heard Van take several deep breaths as he struggled to not vomit, but judging by the way his body twitched, it was a close call.

Someone, somehow had taken the guards face and turned it inside out. Round eyeballs hung on exposed retina, dangling halfway down fleshless cheeks. The man’s mouth was open wide in a soundless scream, tongue dangling down where his nose should have been, teeth jutting out at odd angles along the exposed jaw... At least the man was dead, though it didn’t look as if it had happened soon enough to spare his pain.

Despite the horror of the sight, Dilandau found a slight smile tugging at his lips. He really hoped it was one of the guards who’d enjoyed making lewd statements and innuendos at him. That would have been satisfying, but he still wasn’t about to complain.

Another body lay a few feet away, appearing to have collapsed mid stride. The two youths skirted the corpse carefully, not wanting to look too closely at it. Some things were best left unseen after all.

There was no motion from the merfolk tank though when the lights flickered, they could make out the still forms of their fellow captives, their bodies twisted into impossible configurations, rendering them barely recognizable as they floated there in the muddied waters.

Turning away, they shuffled over to the dragon cage, dreading what they might find within.

The light flickered again and Dilandau could make out the shape of the crouching dragon in the middle of it’s cell, eyes reflecting lambent light back at them as it growled low in warning.

A bright burst of light flared off to the side as the broken light finally lost it’s battle and burned out completely in a shower of sparks, leaving them alone in the darkness with the malformed dead and one very upset dragon. As if sensing his thoughts, a low warning hiss emanated from the cell and he could hear the soft scrape of scales against stone.

Wandering into a dragon’s cage in the pitch black was likely one of the dumber things he’d done in his life, sadly enough, he was rather sure that it wasn’t going to be the crowning achievement of this escape though. There was likely far more stupidity just waiting for him to indulge. Dammit, why couldn’t he just have a simple up front battle? Swords, crima claws, maybe some fire... why did he have to find himself crawling through flesh hallways and inside out people?

At least he’d found what he’d needed. Of course, that meant that the next step was all up to him. Sure, fortune always favoured the bold and really, death by dragon sounded rather tame after seeing those corpses. Did he really have any grounds to complain? Besides, if he didn’t get his ass in gear and Shroden had somehow survived this mess, he was positive that he’d be the one blamed for it. Put into that context, death by angry baby dragon sounded like a rather good deal.

While the cell door was still intact, the lock itself was deactivated, leaving only the simple latch to keep the door closed and the dragon trapped within. Taking hold of one of the bars in his hand, Dilandau carefully rose up to his full height and flipped the latch up, letting the cage door swing open with a faint creak.

He heard the scrabble of claws against stone, the deep intake of breath and the soft creak of scales. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Knowing that the beast was moments away from pouncing, he lunged forward without warning, his hand striking out with blinding speed. The crack of the heel of his hand hitting the dragon’s snout sounded as loud as a thunderclap and the beast let out an aborted shriek as Dilandau followed up the attack by snagging the dragon’s ear with his other hand. Taking control of the creature’s head, he gave it a quick shake and leaned forward, exuding every bit of confidence he’d ever shown to his men. Weakness was uselessness and Zaibach didn’t tolerate useless things.

“Listen you walking ball of boot leather. If you try to attack me, I’m going to reach down your throat, rip your energist out with my bare hands and then shove it up your ass, so don’t even thing of fucking with me right now.” He gave the head another sharp shake and was inwardly surprised at the fact that the dragon hadn’t attempted a second attack.

The likelihood of the thing understanding him was pretty much nil, but he knew from experience that he sounded pretty damn intimidating and really, that mattered as much as body language when establishing dominance over a dragon.

“We all want out of here and while the two of us are smart enough to find the way, you’re strong enough to get us there. So we work together and leave this place behind. Once we’re free, you’re welcome to try to kill us to your heart’s content but until then, I’m the boss. Got it?!” Sweet fate, the dragon actually whimpered! Dragons could do that?!

“Did... did you just scare a dragon into submission?” Van sounded both awed and horrified.

“It recognizes the deadlier predator.” He replied, covering up his own shock neatly though not releasing his hold on the dragon’s ear in the slightest. “Now get over here Van and get on Kamata’s back.”

“What?!” It didn’t matter that no one could see him, he was rolling his damn eyes.

“The dragon will carry you. He might be small but he’s stronger than a horse. You don’t weight enough for him to even notice.”

“You can’t go around riding dragons!” Ugh, this had better not turn into some speech about animal dignity.

“Would you prefer to crawl? Look, Nothing can cut through dragon hide and they know it. You being on his back isn’t going to bother him because he knows that there’s nothing you can do to hurt him. Just stay away from his face or his belly and he’ll be calm.”

“If he kills me, I’m haunting you!”

“Go ahead, I’m sure my men will love that.”

“What about you? Can you ride and control him?” Van asked as he crawled forwards and cautiously reached out a hand to touch the dragon. Kamata gave a low irritable grumble, but made no effort to snap at the king. The poor thing’s spirit was likely so broken that it just didn’t care anymore so long as they didn’t cause it any pain. That was another thing he owed those bastards.

“I’ll walk. Kamata can hold me up if it gets to be too much.”

“Don’t be an ass Dilandau, you’re exhausted, I can hear it in your voice.”

“The situation doesn’t care how tired I am. If I want to live, I have to walk, so I’ll walk. I’ve made it through worse, don’t worry.” At least he was pretty sure he’d made it through worse. This mess was pretty dire as far as bad situations went. “Hang on Van, we’re about to start moving.”

Walking was easier said than done, but it did help to lean slightly on Kamata as he guided him with ear tugs through the room and back to the door. As before, he focused on those little whims and urges to move then safely down the maze-like corridors which seemed to work rather well until they once again found themselves in front of another set of strange doors. Dilandau’s inner map of the facility warned him that this wasn’t the way out. In fact, they were in a new section previously untraveled.

“Van?”

“This isn’t the exit is it.” It was more of a statement than a question and Dilandau could hear the vague curiosity in the king’s voice. “This is somewhere we need to be... like with Kamata right?”

“I suppose so.” Carefully, Dilandau felt along the door, looking for any indication of what might be behind it. Like all the others, it was featureless metal, and unlocked. Logic dictated that they just turn around and leave. Whatever was behind the doors likely wasn’t worth the risk... but his intuition had guided them here, which meant that logic likely should be thrown out the window.

“Whatever you’re doing, do it faster.” Van whispered loudly from his perch. “It’s getting more dangerous by the second.” He sounded nervous but Dilandau didn’t doubt that he was right. If there was one thing Van had a knack for it was sensing danger to an annoyingly accurate degree.

“I’m going inside, you stay out here with Kamata. Keep concentrating on the danger and let me know if you get anything specific.” Yeah, once they got out of this, they were both likely going to be sitting down and having a long talk about their various abilities and how they worked. Of course, while Dilandau would love to know how the whole seeing danger even if it was friggin invisible and silent thing worked, he wasn’t sure that he really wanted to part with his own secrets. No, forget that, he was positive that he didn’t want to part with them. All they’d do is disgust the other teen and drive him away. He couldn’t risk that.

Cautiously, he crept inside the room, keeping one hand on the wall at all times, more to keep himself balanced and upright than to guide him. His legs trembled with every step and he could feel sweat beading along his skin, but one foot continued to be placed in front of the other. There really was no other option after all.

Straining all of his remaining senses as much as he could, he focused on anything that might give him a clue as to what to expect. There was a strange and fetid stink to the room, of ammonia, unwashed bodies, blood, bleach and feces. Not pleasant in the least and uncomfortably familiar, reminding him of his early days in the labs. Test subjects, it had to be.

Judging by the slow and regular breathing he could hear, they were unconscious. Somehow, they’d survived when everyone else in the area had been twisted and torn apart. That alone made them remarkable and Dilandau didn’t feel right punishing their accomplishment. Besides, they might hold the answer to what had happened... if they ever woke up.

Swearing softly, he glanced around the room, wishing he could see at least something that might help him in this idiotic rescue. He had to take them with him, that had to be why he had gotten the dragon, a beast capable of carrying far more weight than simply Van, why he’d dragged them here despite the growing danger and their failing strength. This was necessary... Bloody Fate.

His foot brushed across something on the floor. It felt like a bundle of sticks wrapped in cloth and Dilandau groaned softly to himself as he nevertheless bent down and felt the body of the dead guard. Whatever had torn through here had had some sort of personal issue with the staff because like the others, this man hadn’t died well.

A quick brush across the guards face told of dry desiccated skin, more resembling ancient leather than living flesh. Every drop of moisture had been sucked out of the body, leaving a frail shell behind which crumpled beneath his fingers, kicking up a dusty stink much like old dried out insect carcasses.

Still believing that there had to be something useful here, he bit back his disgust and brushed his long fingers over the corpse, doing his best to ignore how ribs crumbled beneath his touch or how skin turned to dust and brushed across his face in a disgusting cloud.

Finding an arm, he traced along it’s length until he found a hand. Ah, excellent! The man was still gripping his shock staff. It wasn’t much, and if he was being brutally honest, he likely didn’t have the strength to wield it properly, but it would make a lovely crutch if need be. Besides, only an idiot threw away a perfectly good tool.

Fingers fell apart as he gave the weapon a slight tug, causing another little cloud of flesh dust to fly up, stinging his eyes. Blinking away the irritation, he tucked the weapon beneath his arm, and stood up, bracing his weight against his new walking stick.

Moving towards the center of the room, he bumped his hip against the cold metal of an all too familiar table. Cold metal burned his skin with unwanted memories, but he resisted the urge to scramble away. Instead, he once again reached out his hand, tracing the tables edges until he felt the restraints.

Yeah... this was an examination room, just as he’d thought. The subjects here were likely waiting for their inevitable dissection. At least he knew the buckles well enough to be able to unfasten them without his eyes and wasted little time in moving around the table, releasing each limb with quick and economic movements. The subject never stirred or made a sound, not even when Dilandau finally reached over and dragged the body to the edge of the table and began to work their weight onto his back.

His knees buckled twice under the weight which he knew was negligible, but his exhausted state made feel like a ton. It was more than a little frustrating to know that he could normally have easily run several miles carrying far more than this poor creature’s weight on his back. Now, it was a struggle of epic proportions to get them the few feet across the room to the doorway.

The staff proved to be priceless in this regard and he spent most of the walk hunched over it, using it to brace himself upright as he took step after agonizing step. Still, his breath was ragged and uneven when he reached the dragons side and basically flopped against the rather surprisingly solid beast.

Van wordlessly took hold of the subject, his hands moving with the steady assurance of someone who could if not see, then sense the shape of the nearby body. Never had Dilandau felt more grateful to be free of the weight which had threatened to crush his spine and though he did his best to hide just how much it had drained him, he knew that Van wasn’t fooled.

“H...how are... things looking?” He asked the king in between breaths, loathing his weakness almost as much as he did the urge to go back into the room once more. Dammit, was there another one in there? Of all the... Fucking fate couldn’t ever be convenient could it?

“Nothing immediate.” Van murmured, his own voice a little strained from the exertion, though like Dilandau, he was doing his best to hide just how beaten he was. Good boy. They would get out of here, find somewhere safe to hide, then fall over into comas for a few days. Yeah... that was a good plan. He could get behind that plan. “I think people have bigger problems here than us, but I wouldn’t advise staying. My skin is crawling.”

“Can... can your skin wait a little longer?” He pushed away from the dragon and stumbled back towards the doorway, pretending that he didn’t hear Kamata give a low and almost worried sounding whine. Yup, the stupid dragon had more sense than the draconians... what did that say about their lives?

“You’re going back in!?”

“Yup” He didn’t have the breath to elaborate, or the patience. It’s not like he got to pick and choose where his abilities would lead him. It was all or nothing. If he didn’t get this next person, he would keep being pulled back here no matter what he tried. It was best to just go with it. He’d agreed to be fate’s bitch for this escape, so now he had to play by its rules.

The soft tapping of the staff on the floor sounded ludicrously loud to his ears and he desperately wanted to be as silent as possible, but his options were rather limited at this point seeing as how the staff was the only thing keeping him upright.

Once again, he found the examination table by bumping into it with his hip and feeling along for the restraints. They proved to be just as simple to unfasten as the first and he wasted no time in slinging the new body over his shoulder. This time the weight felt greater and he stumbled awkwardly, banging his shoulder against the table’s edge before he caught himself.

“Are you alright?” He didn’t bother to waste the breath answering. Every lung full of precious air was desperately needed for his muscles as they strained past their limits. Snarling silently, he began to block his body from his mind, walling away the pain of overexertion, the shriek of pulled muscles and the sting of his bruises. None of that mattered. None of it was life threatening. It could be ignored for a time before it grew too dangerous whereas their situation could not. Dimly, he was aware that he was lying to himself. His body was reaching dangerous levels of fatigue and already displaying symptoms of imminent collapse, but what choice did he have?

Everything was spinning by the time he fell against Kamata’s side, the body dropping to the floor behind him, barely noticed as he slowly sank down to the floor, his lungs struggling to draw in enough air,

“You’re not ok.” Van hissed, sliding off of Kamata’s back and crouching down next to the albino. He quickly took the dragonslayers pulse, noting not only how cold and clammy the skin beneath his hands had become but how his heart was beating in a wild and irregular rhythm. “Dammit Dilandau, you’re about to give yourself a heart attack!”

Infuriated at this claim of weakness, the dragonslayer did his best to push Van away but his arms didn’t have any strength left to them and all he ended up doing was pawing the other youth ineffectually. He wanted to argue with the king, to inform him that he was fine and fit for whatever challenge awaited them, but he couldn’t speak. His lungs were struggling to hard just to sustain his body. There was nothing left for frivolous speech.

Without further argument, Van straightened up and took hold of the test subject’s body, hauling them up onto Kamata’s back with what sounded like a lot of awkwardness. It took far longer than it really should have to get the body into a position where it would be balanced on the broad back, but Dilandau found that at this point, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Breathing was his priority.

At least siting on the floor had helped. The heat from Kamata’s body radiating into him, relaxing his muscles somewhat and serving to anchor himself enough to keep the room from spinning. Each breath seemed to help a little bit more and he struggled to get it back under control, aware that hyperventilating wasn’t going to make anything better.

When Van’s hands slipped under his arms, he groaned in protest but was ignored as the dark king seemed determined to place him up on the dragon’s back with the rest of the useless baggage.

“NO!” He gasped out, rather surprised at the forcefulness of his protest. “I... c... can walk.” The words were gasped out, the strain evident to anyone with a lick of common sense, but at least he could form them now. That was better than how he’d been five minutes ago.

“You’re going to kill yourself at this rate!” Van snapped back, but Dilandau ignored him. Leaning on both the dragon and his staff, he took one wobbly step forward, then another. The statement was clear. So long as he was conscious, he was going to walk out of here on his own two feet. He was Dilandau Albatou dammit! No surrender!”

At least fate seemed to have taken pity on him, the urge was now to move forward and he did so with such relief that he nearly cried. If there had been three surviving subjects, he was rather sure that he wouldn’t have made it. Yeah, he was done with rescuing people. Anyone else was going to have to just find their own way out.

Dilandau was aware that Van was glaring in his general direction, the king insisting on walking as well, despite his own exhaustion, making some sort of stupid point that he was sure he’d understand if he took a moment to think about it. That required thought though, and he didn’t have time for that. All that mattered was following those little tugs on intuition down an endless series of hallways.

Twice they stopped to listen, positive that they’d heard something move up ahead, but both times it proved to be false alarms, their own overtaxed imaginations playing with them. When Van grabbed his arm and forced him to stop suddenly, he figured it was just another such nonevent, but before he could ask what was wrong, there was the distinct sound of booted footsteps up ahead. Like themselves, whoever was walking around was in bad shape, but this was the first living enemy they’d come across so far and the dragonslayer was willing to bet that whoever the guard was, he wasn’t going to be in a good mood.

The man up ahead groaned as if in pain and there was a wet retching sound followed by the splatter of liquid mingled with solid chunks best left uncontemplated hitting the metal stone floor. Another broken moan of pain reverberated down the hallway and this time, the voice didn’t sound quite as human as before. There was something warped about it that caused the hair on the back of Dilandau’s neck to stand on end and he was deeply grateful that whatever the guard had been twisted into, it couldn’t see them any better than they could it.

They waited quietly as the guard gurgled wetly then gave a piercing shriek that caused even Kamata to cringe slightly before those dragging footsteps moved on.

No one dared to move a muscle until the sounds of his passage had been swallowed up by the silence. Both youth’s wondering just what else was waiting for them up ahead and if they were walking into even greater danger than before.

“We have to keep moving.” Van murmured, his voice hushed and subdued. Rather than answer, Dilandau nodded his head, forgetting for a moment that the king couldn’t see the gesture.

“Yeah... I... I think we’ve overstayed... our welcome.” Hishands clenched tightly at the shock staff, taking comfort in knowing that if nothing else, he was armed.

Of course, seeing as how no one was in any shape to fight on their side, Van’s unique danger sensing ability was now their greatest tool and for the fist time ever, Dilandau was deeply grateful that the king had that rather unique ability. His own powers would get them to their goals...eventually, but he wasn’t sure if they would steer them around any potential problems. Likely not, if there was something useful to be gained from the encounter. Right now, he was happy to trade usefulness for expediency. Granted, that didn’t mean he wanted to walk straight into ambushes like an idiot.

Another set of doors, another hallway... the lights were back, flickering sporadically and destroying their precious night sight but at this point, they were so sick of moving through the darkness that even this was welcome.

“The hangar is just up ahead.” Dilandau stated with certainty, glancing back at Van, a grin of triumph on his face. It didn’t last long, not when the king looked so concerned. Heaving a heavy sigh, the dragonslayer leaned against Kamata’s head. “What is it?”

“Danger... not immediate...but the threat is there.”

“Can’t be any clearer than that? You sound like Emperor Dornkirk.”

“On second thought, go on ahead, have fun, the coast is clear.” Yeah, he supposed that he had that one coming.

Something slammed into the door up ahead hard enough to shake the heavy steel with the impact, making everyone jump and Kamata hiss loudly. They could hear yelling from inside the hangar and the distant boom of an explosion. Dilandau couldn’t quite keep a grin from spreading across his face. Chaos was always welcome, especially in situations like these.

“You know, I have the strangest feeling that we might not even be noticed.” The dragonslayer mused, taking a moment to examine the door. It had an electronic lock like all the others, but he was willing to bet that like it’s predecessors, something had screwed it up as well. Really, did Basram know nothing about redundancy systems? Granted, how did one plan for something like this happening? He was pretty sure that even the Stratagos would have been caught flat footed.

Glancing over his shoulder at his companions, he dredged up the pathetic scraps of power he still had left, trying to look as confident as possible.

“Ready?”

“Dilandau?”

“What?”

“Just get on the dragon. You’re about to fall over.” Van stared at him levelly, not fooled for an instant by the false bravado. Alright, so he was leaning pretty heavily on the staff, his legs were shaking and things were starting to spin once again... but it was just a short run across a hanger.. where a full blown battle sounded like it was taking place... Dammit.

“Alright,” He grumbled, annoyed at his weakness but acknowledging that riding a dragon into battle was still rather impressive, even if it was a little one. “But I’m riding in front. After all, I have to tell Kamata where to go.”

Van looked more than a little skeptical that the slayer would have any control over the dragon at all, but he relented without a fight, motioning for the albino to sit at the front of their little pile of bodies.

Doing his best to not think about how ridiculous they all likely looked piled up on top of a dragon the size of a small horse, he instead took Kamata by the ear and leaned over to whisper loudly.

“Alright Kamata, we need to get into that room fast, so tear through that door and anyone in your way. Go where I tell you and I promise that I’ll give you a nice bloody treat at the end of it all. Sound tasty?” Again, the words didn’t matter, only the approving and encouraging tone of voice. The dragon seemed to perk up visibly and it’s tail lashed back and forth, the large barb on its tip scraping deep gouges in the wall behind them.

Giving a scaly shoulder a firm pat, he hopped into place, the movement made less impressive by the fact that he required Van’s help to get himself all the way up seeing as how his traitorous legs seemed to have chosen that moment to give up. Undignified? Oh hell yes, but since Van was the only witness who could talk, he would deny the incident with his very last breath.

“Alright Kamata, Let’s have some fun!” He gave a nudge with his heels into the beasts shoulders and braced himself for the lurch, leaning forward and grabbing onto the tough scraggly mane running down the dragon’s neck. It was the leaning forward more than the kick which caused the creature to lunge forward, but he really had no time to complain seeing as how they burst through the thick metal as if it was paper and dove straight into a war zone.

The power was still on in the hangar, though the damage was evident no matter where you looked. Several ships were crushed by fallen debris and the great flag of Basram was on fire, filling the room with a thick haze of smoke. Everywhere they looked, there were men fighting.... not men. It was a nightmarish image nearly impossible to describe save to say that whatever strange power had torn through the base looked as if it had taken many of the guards apart and reassembled them without any instructions or awareness of how a human body functioned. That and it had used whatever spare parts happened to have been laying around.

One creature appeared to be several guards melted into each other, their flesh flowing like wax, bonding clothing and weapons together into a nightmarish monstrosity driven mad by it’s own existence. It flowed forward on a multitude of legs, swinging at least a dozen twisted looking arms wildly as it shrieked. Several of the things jaws distended far wider than should be possible for a human... or even a snake, revealing broken and splintered chunks of bone which were now it’s teeth.

Another had melded with chunks of glass, giving the less than grateful world a window into its inner workings. Organs pulsed and twitched as it moved, and it’s flesh was covered in a thick layer of glass shards, creating a razor sharp armour which tore chunks out of anyone within reach.

More had bonded with machinery or even their weapons, creating strange creations which would have driven a madoushi to orgasm to see in action. One poor soul seemed to have become part of his melef! His flesh had spread out over the hull of the machine, sheathing chunks of it in skin and bone. Dilandau could even see a vast network of nerves stretching out across the things limbs, allowing him to control it as if it was his own body.

All had been driven mad by the agony of their fusion and they attacked anything that came into range with reckless abandon. The guards who had been stationed in the hangar appear to have escaped the worst of the initial.. whatever, but they’d been ill prepared to deal with the remains of their comrades descending on them in a freakish horde.

The ground was already littered with bodies and slick with blood, forcing Kamata to dig his claws in as he ran. Delighted with his newfound freedom and goaded by the violence around him, the dragon was in fine form. His jaws gaped wide, long purple tongue dangling out and tail lashing from side to side, tossing enemies, both human and other aside as if they were toys.

Dilandau couldn’t help but laugh at the carnage, wishing he could take part in the wild battle. It called to him, practically begged him to join in and spill hot blood with wild abandon, but he remained focused on that tiny urge in his mind, guiding them around the worst of the fighting towards a small leviship at the edge of the hangar.

It was an older ship and Basrami in design, the countries coat of arms emblazoned boldly on the side. Likely a light cargo hauler. It would be relatively quick and easily overlooked yet still big enough for their group so long as they all got along... and weren’t inside for too long. More importantly, it was one of the one’s closest to the hangar doors and judging by the sound of it, was already powering up its engines.

“Kamata!” He yelled, his voice carrying over the din of battle. Throwing an arm out, the dragonslayer pointed towards the ship, and to his surprise, the dragon actually veered in the correct direction, it’s mighty forelegs propelling them forward at an impressive pace. The dragon only paused once to grab onto a passing guard, his jaws shattering armour and bone with ease before a casual twist of his neck sent the broken man flying through the air, colliding with a burning leviship. Dilandau’s high pitched maniacal laugh filled the hangar as he delighted in the wanton act of violence, utterly convinced that bringing the dragon along as the best decision he’d ever made.

Sharp claws scrabbled up the steep gangplank and the great reptile came to a sudden jarring stop inches from the door, studying it with an almost confused look on it’s face. Before it could decide to tear the door apart, Dilandau leaned forward and rapped it sharply with the butt of the staff three times.

“No one is going to be stupid enough to answer that.” Van murmured in vague amusement, too worn out to care about the surrounding carnage. “They’d have to be utter idio-” The door opened, revealing a thin basrami man who stared at them with eyes growing wider by the moment. Obviously he hadn’t expected to find a dragon on the other side of the door, nor an insanely grinning Zaibachi warlord and fanelian king.

“Hi!” Dilandau chirped delightedly. “I claim this ship in the name of the Zaibach Empire.” The man opened his mouth to scream. Kamata opened his mouth as well, and closed it on the unfortunate fool with a bone shattering snap, silencing him forever before happily ambling in through the wide cargo door.

Hopping off his perch, Dilandau favoured the dragon with a solid pat on the shoulder, utterly ignoring the twitching body dangling from his jaws.

“Good boy, enjoy your treat.”

“You’re going to let him eat the man?” Van actually managed to dredge up the energy to sound indignant and somewhat offended, but Dilandau simply turned to him and smirked, unconcerned.

“Small enclosed space and a hungry dragon. Do I need to paint you a picture?” He stated simply, adjusting his grip on the staff before looking around. One person wouldn’t be flying this alone. The controls of this ship required two people, so there had to be another idiot lurking around.

“Jani? What was that noise?” Ah, ask and you shall find. Grinning widely, the dragonslayer headed in the direction of the voice, already feeling stronger after his short rest.

He died as easily as his companion when Dilandau drove the energized end of his stun staff into the man’s face... repeatedly. It felt good, but not nearly as much as if he’d put up a fight. Stupid cowards, hiding in here rather than defending their hangar. At least his corpse would serve a purpose and keep Kamata stuffed silly. He could just imagine the damage an agitated dragon could do inside a ship.

Dragging the body back into the main cargo hold, he noticed that Van had carefully taken the bodies off of the dragon, lest he mistake them for snacks and eat them along with the idiots. It was good thinking and Dilandau mentally chastised himself for not taking the few moments to do it himself. It would have been beyond stupid to have gone through all that effort to rescue these two, only to let them die needlessly.

As he approached, another explosion shook the ship, forcing them both to crouch, dropping their center’s of gravity to keep from being knocked over. The dragon simply grunted, utterly unconcerned.

“We need to lift off before someone damages the ship.” He stated, taking the arm of one of the unconscious subjects. It was hard to make out their features seeing as they were still in some sort of embryonic style sack that encased them like a leathery second skin. Had he been in one too when he’d been made? It was more than a little disgusting really and he wanted to tear the foul tissue away. Of course, it was likely there for a reason, protecting them as their skin finished developing or something like that. At least it looked almost dried out. Hopefully they’d wake up soon, peel that crap away and become useful in some manner.

“Agreed.” Van took the other subjects arm and together, they two teenagers dragged them out of the cargo hold and into the nearest room... which looked like a small storage room of some sort. Kamata ignored their exit, being more focused on his warm crunchy treats.

They left their unconscious charges on the floor, figuring that they’d be just as safe there as anywhere else and headed to the bridge. Having never flown a leviship before, Van was more than a little nervous, more so knowing that the last one Dilandau had flown had crashed.

“Think you can keep this one in the air?” He couldn’t quite resist egging his companion on and the dragonslayer chuckled softly, taking a moment to flip a rather rude hand sign in his direction. It didn’t matter that Van didn’t understand it, it felt good to do it and that’s what really mattered.

“You’re welcome to pilot it if you think you can do better.” Dilandau offered with a smile, not even waiting for Van’s answer before looking at the controls. They were pretty basic, and thankfully, he was fluent in written Basrami, reading it with far more ease than Astorian. In fact, the design was similar to Zaibach’s own fleet of cargo carriers... at least the older models. Once he got used to the handling it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

Slipping into the pilots chair, he took the wheel in one hand and turned the dials, cooling the stones which flanked either side of the ship.

“Van, I need you to hit the release mechanism for the docking clamps.” He called over his shoulder, earning a blank look from the king. “Big lever by your left shoulder. Pull it down until it locks into position.” Once he heard the heavy clank of the clamps retracting, he increased the rate of coolant flooding the stone and hit the thrusters with perhaps a tad more force than was needed. The machinery groaned loudly in protest as the ship lurched forward, nearly scraping a levistone loose on the hangar walls.

“I thought you knew how to fly!” Van yelled over the screech of metal on metal and irritated dragon playing counterpoint.

“I do, but I fly mostly guymelefs remember, the handling is different and takes a bit of getting used to!”

“Get used to it faster!”

“Get out and walk if you don’t like it!” In hindsight, saying that to a draconian really didn’t have the impact of saying it to a human. He’d have to keep that in mind for future reference because he felt sort of stupid after saying it.

They shot clear of the hangar, bursting out into bright daylight, the first natural light either of them had seen in over a colour. It was blinding and beautiful, neither could tear their eyes away from the sight of blue sky, large white clouds and... and approaching leviships. Crap.

“Brace yourself.” Dilandau barked as he wrenched the wheel hard to starboard, turning them away from the oncoming armada. The force of the sharp turn caused the wing struts to groan and he heard something snap that hopefully wasn’t too important. Nothing was flashing in warning at least.

“Are they going to follow us?” Van picked himself up off of the floor, a little bruised but otherwise more concerned with possible pursuit than injury. The king stared out the window at the base they were leaving behind, noting the thick plumes of smoke billowing out from the hangar and the incalculable horror hidden within it’s depths.

“I think they have enough things to worry about than us. By the time they realize that we’ve escaped, we’ll be back in Astoria. Speaking of, find me a map. I have no clue where we are and don’t want to send us into uncharted wilderness or a volcanic mountain range.”

“We have those?”

“Basram does. They suck.” The dragonslayer paused for a moment, remembering trying to struggle through pyroclastic flows that clogged vents and burned delicate wiring in seconds. It had been a spectacular crash and he’d been lucky to have been on the edge of it. The idiots who’d been chasing him hadn’t been nearly as fortunate. Their ship had cooked in the thousand degree heated gas, killing all crew within seconds. It had gone down as a great victory and innovative strategy, but definitely not something he ever wanted to repeat without a bout of heavy drinking beforehand.

It did bring to mind another problem though. He’d seen for himself that Basram had at least rudimentary tracking technology, likely upgraded since plundering the Empire. Chances were high of their being something on this ship that would allow them to be followed at a discreet distance.

“Van, I need you to look for tracking beacons.” Yeah, he should have expected that blank look. Damn barbarians. “It will be hidden somewhere. A small box with a blinking light on it that’s not attached to anything important.” It had better not be integrated into the systems. He had no way of getting it out if that was the case.

“Half the things in here have blinking lights on them.” The king stated flatly, not impressed at all with the task he’d just been given. He had no desire to meddle with any of the high end technology surrounding him. Just pulling levers was enough to make him nervous.

Dilandau looked ready to argue with him but took a moment to actually see the cockpit through the eyes of someone who had no idea what they were looking at and sighed in defeat.

“You’re right. You take the wheel and I’ll hunt for it.” Really he had no idea that Van could squeak like that, it was more than a little amusing, as was the look of stark terror written across his face. “It’s not that hard, we’re cruising right now, so just keep the wheel steady.” Motioning the king over, he placed Van’s hands on either side of the wheel, his own hands on top, guiding him, letting him get a feel for the ship. “See? It’s fine, just keep doing that for a few minutes while I look.”

“What if we hit turbulence?!” Dilandau was already pulling away to begin his search and he glanced over his shoulder with a bit of a smile.

“Well then things will get very exciting for a bit. Don’t worry about it. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Yeah, he was definitely going to savour that look of pure terror. It looked good on the king and the albino couldn’t resist licking his lips at the thought of how that trembling body would feel in his arms.

Ugh, stupid priorities!

Diving into the task with vigour, he opened up panels, checked behind hydraulic hoses and even poked his head into the cargo hold where Kamata gave a rather scathing critique of his liftoff. It wasn’t until he was poking around in the tail of the damn ship that he found it, blinking away merrily behind some dusty panels that didn’t look like they’d ever been opened.

Grinning widely, he dropped the device to the ground and smashed it several times with the butt of his staff until there was nothing left but scrap. Handy weapon that staff.

Humming softly to himself, he ambled back to the cockpit and gave Van a pat on the back, making no effort to take the wheel back. Instead, he looked around for the map and table, finding in it’s place a wall map with an interactive screen which updated regular readings of local weather patterns and air currents.

At least this was more to his standards than the archaic mess they used on the Crusade and he couldn’t quite resist a chortle of delight as he began to study it. Unfortunately his smile fell bit by bit the longer he stared at it until his displeasure became apparent even to Van.

“What’s wrong?” The kings voice was tight from nervousness and he gripped the wheel with white knuckled fists, but Dilandau had to give him credit that at least he was keeping at it rather than insisting that the captain take the wheel immediately. No matter what he might say about the darker youth, he had guts.

“The map is updated automatically through a sensor net.” He muttered, fully aware that Van and his backwards technology would have no idea what that was. “The radio on this ship talks to the radios on other ships constantly.” Hopefully that was simple enough.

“Ok... I sort of follow... so what’s the problem? Can they track us through the radios?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure the full extend of their technology, it might just be a broadband broadcast. The problem is that our ship then takes that information and pinpoints it’s location accordingly.” Yeah, the king had no idea what he was talking about, but that didn’t matter. He’d figure out the systems soon enough once he got into an Alseides unit. Then he’d see which guymelef was truly superior.

“It uses the beacon to pinpoint itself.” Dilandau sighed, more than a little annoyed at himself. He should have thought of that before destroying it. After all, Zaibach used similar methods for troupe placement. Being exhausted was no excuse. He knew better than that!

“The beacon we just destroyed.” It was nice of Van to not single him out for his stupidity, but Dilandau wasn’t about to shirk responsibility. His lack of foresight was going to make things very difficult for them, but not impossible. He could use landmarks and the sun to work out their location... so long as he had the right tools... This ship had damn well better have the right tools. Even the Vione kept a few sets just in case they lost power on a massive scale... and Folken had found them quaint.

“I’ll work it out. In the meantime, we should change course in case someone did follow us. No reason to just stay in a straight line.” Seeing the logic in this, Van nodded his had and then gave Dilandau an expectant look, expecting him to take over. Instead of doing so, the captain leaned against a control panel and crossed his arms over his chest in a rather indulgent fashion. “Go for it Van, jut turn the wheel slowly and steadily in whichever direction you want.”

He honestly had no idea that Van’s eyes could get that wide. It was more than a little adorable and Dilandau found himself really wanting to see if he could get the proud king to squeak once more.

“No!” The dark teen blurted out quickly, nearly snatching his hands from the wheel at the very thought of trying to steer or do anything fancy like a turn. “I’ll crash us and if we survive, you’ll never let me live it down! You take the wheel!” Allowing himself a faint chuckle, Dilandau pushed away from the wall and stood behind Van, just close enough that their bodies brushed.

He loved how the slightly smaller youth stiffened at the nearness and imagined that he could feel Van’s heart beating faster as he leaned forward, his breath ghosting across that tanned throat. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his arms and placed his hands over Van’s, pinning him to the wheel while taking control of the ship.

“It’s not hard.” He murmured, shifting his hips slightly so that his pelvis brushed lightly against Van’s rather lovely bottom. Ahhh, there was the squeak. Indignant, nervous and desperate all woven together into one delightful sound. Suddenly, he wasn’t quite as tired as before.

“All you have to do is take charge.” His breath was a silken purr whispering in Van’s ear, causing the smaller teen to swallow nervously several times. Grinning despite himself, Dilandau’s thumb stroked teasingly across the back of Van’s hand, watching how those strong fingers clutched desperately at the wheel, using it to anchor himself, doing everything he could to not press back against Dilandau. It was a sheer delight watching him frantically try to hold onto his dominance even as it was neatly plucked from him.

“Now turn the wheel gently. That’s it, make it obey you.” He was close enough to smell Van’s scent of fresh winter wind and apples, a shiver of delight coursing through him. Strong muscles flexed, pressing against him as the ship began to turn, sluggishly at first, fighting against cross currents, then with a slight lurch, it seemed to almost slide forward, shifting smoothly onto it’s new trajectory. “Mmmm very good Van, I knew you had some skill in those hands of yours.”

He could almost taste that delicious skin and longed to feel its heat against his tongue and teeth. The sounds he could wring from this lovely dark warrior would be incredible and he longed to conquer the forbidden territory of his former enemy. It would be the sweetest of victories.

The ship lurched again, violently this time and Dilandau’s head shot up as he heard a loud crack from somewhere outside.

Swearing loudly, he pushed Van away from the wheel and grabbed hold of it just before it tried to spin sharply out of control. The motion threatened to wrench his shoulders out of joint, but he held on, knowing how dangerous it would be if they went into a tailspin.

“Look out the window and see what we lost!” He snapped at the king, his eyes already glancing at the monitors, several of which were now flashing warnings of various degree. Hydraulics in the starboard wing were losing pressure, the ships balance was off and they were dropping in altitude. Well wasn’t that just frigging lovely!

“We’ve got a problem with the wing!” Van yelled from where he stood, pressed against the window staring out.

“That’s fucking obvious!” Dilandau couldn’t keep from snarling. “What sort of problem!?” Maybe one of them could fly out there and fix it? There had to be emergency maintenance kits on board somewhere.

“The wing is gone.” Or maybe not... that was likely well beyond the capabilities of a kit to fix.

“Great.... just great.” The captain grumbled as he pulled some levers, attempting to force the ship into a low angled glide. “We’re going to crash.” Dammit, no one was going to ever believe that he actually knew how to fly leviships at this rate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's lesson: Don't fuck with fate. It's bigger than you are.
> 
> And so we leave behind the horrors of the Madoushi lab and thrust our fabulous duo into the action/adventure part of our story. As much as I love writing horror, I'm really happy to move on to lighter and faster paced stuff. Things are really going to start moving along now in the story as the boys realize that their problems are really only just beginning.
> 
> Yes, I had a blast writing a bunch of fun AU's into this story, including a few alternate endings/scenes that I cut out from this story. I liked Van pulling a movie Folken and burning Fanelia himself, seeing Celena if she'd never been kidnapped by Zaibach and Van as a middle management working drone on earth, heee. BTW, some of those AU's might not be far off what actually happens during the story. *evil grin*
> 
> Also, damn, Dilandau really has no luck with leviships. He honestly does know how to fly them!! He really does! Sure he's 0 for 2 right now... but... um... that's just coincidence. Though honestly, if he'd been paying better attention to the controls and not Van's ass, this might have been avoided. tsk tsk. Really, the dominance plays between the two of them are so much fun to write, especially the more subtle ones.
> 
> I love Kamata. I just thought I'd get that out there right now and let you all know that the sweet little murderous beast will be around for a while because really, Dilandau would totally have a pet that was just as homicidal as he is, even if it's always trying to kill him. Oh, and yes, Dilandau totally slapped a damn dragon into submission. heh.
> 
> It's been referenced a few times that Dilandau spent an extended period of time living with a wolf clan, hence why he had no problems working with Jajuka when everyone else in Zaibach looked down on beast-kin. I thought it would be nice to give a little glimpse into that life. That dream snippet almost became a short story of it's own, but I wanted to put it into the books continuity to make it easier for people who aren't reading the short side stories. The idea of little Dilandau sort of bonding with poisonous wyverns amused me and I like that he has a beast clan identity. It sort of makes sense considering how fluent he is in their language.
> 
> Next Chapter: Just who the hell is pulling the strings here?


	10. When Destiny Comes Knocking at Your Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another ship down, new players enter the game and some shocking revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters. So there!
> 
> I really wanted to be able to post this on Remembrance day, but had to still proof read it, so it's coming out today. Hope you all like it. Comments, critiques and theories are always welcome.
> 
> Special thanks to Drkstars/Ivorybyrd for being my victim...er.... beta reader for most of this story and putting up with me endlessly tossing scenes and ideas at her. Also for her tolerating my utterly convoluted and evolving theories on who is pulling strings and why. Also for laughing at the cheap jokes I make for every scene... some which will get turned into chibi's later.

“We’re what?!!” Van yelled, spinning around to stare at the dragonslayer who was doing his best to keep the wheel steady. “No! You said you knew how to fly these things!”

“Yes, when they have both bloody wings! Now stop yelling and turn that green dial ten degrees to the left... the other left!” Dilandau snapped, pulling several levers, flooding the levistones with coolant in an attempt to control their descent, hoping that there was enough of the wing left to at least let him steer. At least he’d stopped them from going into a spin, that would have ended everything in a rather messy way.

A quick glance showed that they were descending, but at an acceptable rate... all things considered. The remaining levistones were keeping them in the air for the time being, but that wouldn’t last for long. They needed distance though in order to throw off any possible pursuit. All it would take was one nosy ship to ruin everything.

“Van, pull that red handled lever by the door, then the green one. Let’s see if we can extend some sails and catch a better wind.”

“That won’t keep us in the air.”

“No, but it will give us a few more miles between us and that base.” Crimson eyes glanced at the map in irritation. He was furious at his own shortsightedness in destroying the beacon before they could establish their position properly. Now they had no clue what direction they were heading in and didn’t even have any clue as to what time of day it was, making the sun useless until it moved a little across the sky. All he could do was put his faith into his intuition once again, hoping that they were heading towards the border instead of deeper into enemy territory.

Of course, if he was feeling particularly uncharitable, everywhere was enemy territory for him. Even Astoria would likely blame him for the disappearance of King Van Fanel, and he couldn’t even blame them for that one. It’s not like the two of them had the best history. Maybe Egzardia wouldn’t have him immediately executed, he’d fought in various joint campaigns with them before the war.. surely he’d saved someone important during that time... important enough to make up for all the soldiers he’d slaughtered.... yeah, not likely.

Really, his only option was to get to Astoria with Van in tow and make it to the palace to explain himself before any local mobs lynched him. Yeah, freedom was such a wonderful thing. Stupid Destiny War, stupid losing to barbarians!

“Dilandau... how hard a landing are we looking at here?” Van asked softly, concern filling his voice as he glanced at the map, the window then the pale captain. As if more than one of the three would provide him with an acceptable answer. Giving the altimeter another quick glance and rapidly calculating their rate of descent in his head, Dilandau looked out the window at the terrain ahead of them and grimaced.

“If you want to fly out of here, I won’t blame you..” He tried to ignore how flat his voice sounded. The dark king frowned slightly and looked out the front window as well, likely weighing his options.

“What about you? This isn’t a captain always goes down with his ship thing is it? Because you sort of fed the captain to the dragon.” That at least elicited a chuckle from the dragonslayer and he flashed Van a slight grin.

“Kamata can’t fly remember? And he’s too heavy for either of us to carry, even together. Not to mention the two test subjects.” Telling Van the real reason would likely only get him a lecture and an argument about pointless stubborn pride. Still, it had been Dilandau’s fault that the wing had been initially damaged, and he should have been paying better attention to the monitors rather than playing at seducing Van. He knew his damn priorities and only an idiot turned away before a battle was won. He’d allowed himself to become distracted and should be punished for his failure. If that meant being crushed by the damn ship, then so be it. Maybe if he worked hard enough, he could ensure that the rest survived this screw up.

“Your life means more than theirs.” Van surprised them both by this statement, but he didn’t take it back. Instead, he stood next to Dilandau and planted his feet firmly on the floor, making it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere. “I mean it Dilandau. Those two might never wake up, and if they do, we have no idea what shape they might be in. As for Kamata, I know you have some strange attachment to the damn thing, but he’s been maimed, he’ll never survive on his own.”

Dilandau continued to stare straight ahead, his gaze never wavering as he held the wheel steady, looking for some distant place to land that might heighten their chances for survival.

“It doesn’t matter.” He stated after several minutes of tense silence punctuated by the odd push of a button or lever pull. “I’m responsible for their lives and I refuse to do nothing as they die... I’ve done enough of that.” Van stiffened at his words but didn’t pull away. There was no venom behind them or even anger. He was simply stating his duty. Failing it once had cost him everything. There was no way he was going to repeat that terrible mistake, even if it cost him his life.

“Do we have long enough for me to strap down our two guests?” The question sounded casual, but Dilandau felt something relax deep inside him as he realized that yes, Van was going to stay. He wouldn’t be facing this alone after all.

Flashing the king a grateful smile, the dragonslayer nodded his pale head, not quite trusting his voice to speak. The last thing he needed was to sound all choked up like some character in one of Shesta’s silly romance stories... not that he ever read them! He was just trying to remain stoic!

“Think Kamata will let me tie him down for his own protection?”

“Depends how many limbs you’re willing to lose in the process.”

“You couldn’t have gotten a cat or rabbit as a pet could you? It just had to be a dragon.” The king shook his had in mild exasperation before giving Dilandau a solid pat on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back, try to keep us in the air until then ok?”

“No guarantees, but I’ll make sure you get warning before we hit.”

“Land. We’re going to land. Try to be optimistic.”

“Go tie down the others you glorified pigeon.”

“If I’m a pigeon, what’s that make you?”

“A hawk.”

“Hawks know how to land.”

“Fuck you Fanel. Go do your job.” The levity helped a bit and Dilandau felt his usual energy returning as he gripped the wheel with renewed vigour. “Alright Albatou.” He growled in the tone of voice he usually reserved for dressing down dragonslayers. “You got yourself into this mess and you damn well know it, but people are depending on you to get them out of this alive. Failure is not an option. Failure means weakness, weakness is uselessness and Zaibach doesn’t tolerate useless things. So stop wallowing in self pity and get your ass in gear!” This was normally the time in the speech that he’d give the offending soldier a good solid slap, but honestly, he didn’t have the energy to spare on some tawdry bit of drama, so instead he focused on just doing his damn job.

It took all of his attention to keep the nose of the ship up and flying straight, but the winds were favouring them and they were dropping at a much slower rate than expected. This was wonderful news and it buoyed his spirits immensely.

Beneath them, the ground was hard and unyielding badlands. Sharp cracks in the earth created deep chasms that dropped down hundreds of feet into darkness while wind scoured stone had been formed into rather fantastical shapes. There wasn’t much life here and the area was mostly unsettled save for a few wandering tribes of beastmen and nomadic humans. That meant they were in southern Basram... that wasn’t the most favourable discovery seeing as it placed Astoria at nearly half a continent away, but it could be much worse.

Off in the distance, he could faintly make out what might be a large inland sea. Frowning, he quickly glanced at the map and swore under his breath as he realized just where they actually were. Yeah, it had gotten worse.

There were only two inland seas in the badlands of southern Basram and neither boded well for his choice in direction. His gaze darted over to the map on the wall and he had to bite back several rather vulgar expletives. The Nostramos sea stretched along the border with Freid, not a county he was overly inclined to visit ever again. There were simply too many horrible memories of that country... not to mention some actions which might come back to haunt him should he ever set foot on their soil again.

The Freidians might not know that he was the one to deliver that bastard Zongi to murder their most holy man, but they certainly knew that he was the one to defeat Duke Freid... not to mention several other “atrocities” which honestly had been quite a lot of fun at the time. Oh who was he kidding? They were still fun, or at least they would be if he still had his men with him, indulging themselves in wanton slaughter.

The other sea was the Silent Sea. A massive body of water that might as well be an ocean for all intents and purposes but someone long ago had liked the way the name had flowed off the tongue or something stupid like that. Few ships had ever sailed across it’s vast reaches and fewer still had flown. Strange and terrible storms frequented the area and the sea was said to be a haven for water dragons and their ilk. Should they somehow make it past it’s reaches, the lands beyond were a total mystery. No one sane had ever travelled past the small pockets of islands located a few hundred miles off shore, part of a volcanic chain which likely was in part responsible for the violent storms.

Stupid intuition, they were heading south... away from Astoria and Zaibach and every place Dilandau was even remotely familiar with. While some might see that as a possibly good thing, he certainly didn’t. The world would think that he was running away! That he was scared and retreating from it all when he wasn’t! He wanted to weather this storm, to glare into the eyes of those who hated him and dare them to do their worst! Dammit, he wanted to fight in this stupid war!

“Judging by your face, things aren’t going well.” Van appeared back at his side, staring out the window once more. “Is that...”

“The Nostromos sea... yeah.”

“Well... at least we know where we are.” Van sounded about as delighted as Dilandau felt. Hardly surprising really. While the king had allies in Freid, Fanelia was still nearly a world away. It would be some time before he found his way back to his homeland and it certainly wouldn’t happen before the winter snows set in... or rainstorms given their more southern location. Neither were good for flying in. If they were lucky, they might find a caravan heading north, but it would be expensive, dangerous and most certainly not heading the entire way.

“Any idea where we’re going to land?” It was nice to travel with someone who didn’t waste time with stupid chatter. Van asked the important questions and Dilandau found himself appreciating that, especially in a crisis situation. It reminded him again of Gatti and the comparison set him at ease.

“Yeah...” He muttered softly, glancing at the map for a moment, noting the shape of the great river they were coming up to, trying to work out just how far south they were in comparison to the sea. “We haven’t reached the foothills yet, but we’re out of the badlands so the ground here is mostly scrub. I want to take us down where there’s trees so that they’ll offer some cover and make this hunk of junk a little harder to spot from above.”

Frowning slightly, Van walked over to the map and studied it carefully for a long moment before looking out the window once again.

“Can we reach the jungle canopy?” Said jungle was marked in deep green on the map and widely encircled the sea before stretching into the southernmost reaches of Freid. Past that, it quickly faded into a brutal desert known as the Wasting. Much like the Silent Sea, it guaranteed almost certain death.

“Our wind is holding up surprisingly well. I can get us to the very edge of the jungle, but it’s going to be close.”

“You’ll get us there.” Vans confidence was both surprising and welcome and Dilandau felt the edge of a smile tug at his lips. Of course he’d get them there! It was his mission and there was no way he, the most decorated soldier in the damn Destiny War was going to fail!

 

They stayed in the air for another half hour, which was ten minutes more than Dilandau had projected. Sometimes it was nice to be wrong and every minute made the dragonslayer feel a little more confident that they were going to stay ahead of Basram.

Both teenagers kept an eye out for possible landing sites, but when dealing with a dense jungle, there really wasn’t much that you could choose from aside from trees, and more trees. While it wasn’t going to be a soft landing, it certainly wouldn’t be as bad as the last one... he hoped.

“I don’t think we’re going to find any clearings in this mess.” Van finally murmured and Dilandau was forced to acknowledge the unfortunate realization that he was going to break another damn leviship... well, more than it was broken already. “Don’t suppose you have any strange urges to land in any particular place?”

“Nope... I think fate has washed its hands of us. Go strap yourself in, this won’t be pretty.” The captain turned a few more dials, killing their thrust before motioning for Van to hit the levers controlling the sails. The less speed they had when landing the better. Of course, that did leave the small problem of increasing their rate of descent. While they weren’t dropping out of the sky, they certainly weren’t inching towards the ground either, but at least they shouldn’t leave a huge swatch of destruction through the forest, leading their enemies directly to their location.

Unsurprisingly, after closing the sails, Van resumed his post at Dilandau’s side, flashing him a grin of pure challenge.

“If you think that I’m going to sit back all nice and safe while you stand here like an idiot trying to keep us all alive, you have another thing coming. We’re in this together after all.” There was no time to argue, the tips of the trees were just starting to scrape against the bottom of the ship, causing Kamata to shriek in fear.

“Fine, just grab onto something solid.” As he spoke, he braced himself as best he could and cut all forward thrust even as he pulled back on the wing flaps, forcing the nose up. If they flipped over, they were dead. So long as he kept them flat, they had a chance.

A window on the port side shattered, spraying glass across the bridge and there was a horrific screech as the other wing as torn free, slicing partially through a rather large tree in the process. The noise was deafening, the shaking was bone rattling and both youths were thrown to the floor when the ship hit something stronger than it was and spun sharply to the side.

Their world was chaos as the starboard side was sheered free, exposing the boys to a veritable wall of branches that seemed to almost purposefully grab at them, tying to pull them free of the fuselage and shred them. One such branch caught on Van’s leg and yanked the darker teen across the floor before Dilandau dove for him. He snagged the king’s wrist with one hand while grabbing onto the edge of a console with the other. Van was jerked to a stop inches away from the yawning maw, a look of wide eyes terror on his face as he held onto the dragonslayer for dear life.

Though Dilandau’s shoulder was screaming at him, he didn’t dare let go and the two clung tightly to each other as the ship suddenly seemed to drop straight down several feet before coming to a final thankful stop.

Taking no chances, the albino pulled Van away from the edge of the hole and readjusted his grip so that his arm was wrapped around Van’s body, pressing the two of them tightly together. In response, the young king did the same, clinging to his once enemy tightly enough that neither could breathe easily.

For several long seconds they both lay there panting, waiting for the next jostle or drop, but other than the odd groan from the ship settling, and sharp thud of a broken branch falling free, it seemed that their wild ride had ended.

“That... that could have gone better.” Dilandau murmured, into Van’s ear, doing his best to pretend that his body wasn’t shaking.

“We’re down... we’re alive...” The darker teen replied after a moment’s pause, his strong fingers digging into the dragonslayers back as he also struggled to control his frantic heartbeat. “You didn’t let us die.”

Shifting slightly so that he could look into those wide dark eyes, Dilandau smiled at the king in his arms, unable to resit a cocky grin. Adrenaline still surged through him, warring against the now near overwhelming exhaustion.

“Oh please, I couldn’t kill you even when I wanted to. I’m certainly not about to now.” It felt so good being pressed together like that, their bodies trembling, fingers clutching. He could feel Van’s heartbeat, the tickle of his breath across skin... Sweet fate Fanel smelled good. Did he taste as good as he smelled? Would his lips be as soft as they looked? Without realizing it, he inclined his head forward, crimson eyes never leaving those bottomless brown orbs.

“We’re free...” Van murmured softly, breath ghosting across Dilandau’s lips. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending.” The Dragonslayer replied, his voice barely above a whisper as his grip on the console was released and he instead ran his hand through Van’s dark and tousled hair. He could feel the heat of the king’s lips against his own and knew that the slightest move from either of them would bring them in contact with each other, but there was no hint of resistance or rejection in those beautiful bottomless brown eyes. “You’re not stopping me.”

Dark lashes lowered slightly as Van seemed to melt against his arms, their bodies moulding together perfectly and Dilandau felt those strong hands slide down his back, squeezing gently in encouragement.

“I know.” The eyes widened once more, filled with innocence, trust and most importantly, desire.

Their lips brushed, gently at first with just the briefest of contact. Sparks sizzled along Dilandau’s spine and his lips felt electrified. The energy danced along his nerve endings, lighting him up from the inside out before pooling into a molten heat in his groin. Moaning softly, he brushed their lips together once more, the touch still chaste, still deliciously tentative, but unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

Van’s pulled away for a moment, his eyes wide with wonder as he stared at the pale lips of the other teen, marvelling at the sensations filling his body. There were so many, so powerful and they made his head spin in exciting ways. His exhaustion was pushed aside as pure glorious light seemed to fill him, warming him from the point of contact and spreading like wildfire through him until he was positive that every nerve in his body was glowing brilliantly.

This was a kiss? This is what he’d been missing all of his life? No wonder Hitomi had made such a big deal about it. No wonder he’d felt such dejection seeing her share such brilliant magic with Allen that day on the bridge... and now it was his to taste, being offered by the one person in the universe who should have been the most impossible... the most improbable... the most brilliant.

Smiling widely, Van leaned forward, pressing their lips together a third time. He thrilled at the silken firmness of that glorious mouth, the heat and barely restrained passion that made the energy between them practically vibrate with intensity. Sweet Gods of Gaea, he could be swallowed alive by those wonderful lips and consider it a worthy death. It was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever dreamed it could be and behind it was the sense of endless possibilities opening up for them.

Then, the unexpected... Dilandau opened his mouth, a wet hot tongue of liquid heat filled him and his entire body caught fire! Dimly, some distant part of his mind marvelled that this should have shocked him, disgusted him... this was another person’s tongue! But by all the gods past and present, it was the most incredible thing he’d ever experienced. The world seemed to stop, to turn back on itself and spiral around this one perfect moment over and over until he grew dizzy from the overload.

He was aware of his fingers sliding through shining silken hair, a body wrapping around his and his own tongue plunging into the hot wet cavern of Dilandau’s mouth, claiming it as his own, conquering this unique and glorious land with wild fervour. The dragonslayer tasted like fire, like fine wine, like the wild energy of battle, the thrill of the unknown and Van drank in every heady drop until their bodies trembled against each other and they had to finally part for breath.

“Wow...” Van’s head still spun, his body shivered and his fingers continued to stroke through Dilandau’s hair, keeping their heads close together, sharing the warmth of each others air as they breathed. He loved the shocked look in those crimson eyes, the flash of wonder in their depth and especially the pink hue those beautifully swollen lips had taken on.

The tip of a bright pink tongue slipped out, tasting Van on his mouth and Van watched as snowy white lashes drifted shut as Dilandau all but purred in pleasure like a spoiled cat.

“That... that was worth the wait.” The dragonslayer murmured, stroking his fingertips down Van’s cheek before tracing a path across the king’s own tender lips. “I’ll have to crash more leviships if it means that I’ll get kissed like that.” The two of them burst into soft chuckles, their foreheads gently resting against each others as it finally hit them that they were down, they’d survived.

“I... I should check on the others...” Van murmured, reluctant to pull away, mesmerized by the shape of those pale rosy lips. Could he kiss them again? Would Dilandau let him? What the hell was he thinking? This was Dilandau Albatou! The guy who had stalked him across the continent! Who’d slaughtered hundreds! Who’d burned Fanelia! Who...had saved him more times than he could count during the past colour, who made his body sing with just a touch... who tasted like danger and life itself.

“I should make sure Kamata isn’t going to kill us over this...” Dilandau replied, still sounding a little dazed, his fingers still gently stroking Van’s lips as if they were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

“Yeah... we... we need to start moving....get away from the ship at least.... find shelter.” Though Dilandau nodded his head in agreement, Van was pretty sure he hadn’t heard a word the king had just said. Rather than being iritated, the fanelian teen instead thrilled at the realization. No one had ever been so entranced with him before, looked at him as if he was something rare and beautiful to be treasured above all else.

The pessimist in him warned that this was likely just a reaction to surviving a near death experience... a lot of near death experiences. That as soon as they settled back into a routine, they’d be at each others throats again. Worse, the dragonslayer might decide to go his own separate way now that they weren’t bound together any longer. Should he enjoy this moment for as long as he could? Or cut his losses before he fell too deeply into... whatever this was and was hurt badly.

As if sensing the dark king’s thoughts, Dilandau leaned forwards once more, tasting Van with his tongue, his lips... his whole soul. It was thrilling, the fact that for once, his mind and body weren’t at war with each other, that they both wanted this intimacy. Van’s touch centered him, kept all the darkness and rage at bay and sweet fate, the taste of him, the feel! Everything felt so new, as if it was the first time he’d ever kissed someone... no... no it was better than that cold and desperately degrading memory. This was a cleansing, something new and wonderful and the dragonslayer found that he didn’t want to ever let it go.

_He’ll hurt you, he’ll leave you like all the others...._ that familiar voice crooned in his head, sounding like Shroden, like Folken, like Dornkirk, Gaddes and all of the others who’d hurt him and cast him aside broken and bleeding from his very soul. _Learn from your mistakes, only a fool repeats his failures. You’re nothing, you deserve nothing. All you’ll do is destroy him, the way you destroy everything._ It hurt to hear those voices, to feel the weight of their words and know that they weren’t lying. He was a demon, a monster, an unnatural thing that should never exist. But.... but Van was all of those things too and maybe... maybe together they could become something better.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled away, knowing that it was foolish to stay here, no matter how much he might want to. They hadn’t made it this far only to be caught because they couldn’t keep their damn pants on.

“T... that was my first kiss....” Van’s cheeks turned a shade of red that Dilandau had though impossible to achieve and the previously bold warrior king looked down at the floor, suddenly acting like a sixteen year old virgin... which it appeared that he actually was. “I... I hope it was ok... I mean... yeah...”

It was impossible not to chuckle at the babbling words and Dilandau darted forward, stealing another quick kiss, thrilling at how it still made him tingle all over in the most wonderful ways.

“It was perfect.” He assured the darker youth. “Absolutely perfect, and I can’t wait to do that again, but right now, we need to make sure we survive long enough to do that.” Still looking more than a little breathless, Van nodded his head and moved to stand up, leaning heavily on the console that had helped save his life. Now that the emergency was over and the adrenaline leaving their systems, exhaustion was quickly raising it’s had once more and Dilandau realized that maybe making all of Van’s blood go south when he barely had enough in his body to keep his heart working wasn’t the best of strategies.

“On second though... you stay here and rest.” He cautioned, noticing just how pale the king was beneath that blush. “You’re about to pass out.”

“Am not!”

“You’re swaying.” The dragonslayer stood up carefully, fully aware that he was hardly in any shape to criticize the young king. Not that he was ever going to make that admission. “How about you search the ship for any emergency provisions we can take with us? Food, water, blankets, bandages... clothing would be great if you can find it. Our new friends likely won’t want to wander around a jungle in the buff. I’ve done it, it isn’t fun.” Van opened his mouth to object but then closed it after realizing that this wasn’t busywork, it was actually vital to their survival. Still somewhat reluctant, he nodded his head and slowly shuffled off to poke into the various cabins on the ship. As he walked, his hands rose up to his mouth, tracing the lips Dilandau had recently touched, and smiled.

Watching the dazed king wobble away, Dilandau gave himself a little mental pat on the back. It felt good to know that he still could seduce people, More importantly, people who knew about some of the darker aspects of his past. Van hadn’t turned away, hadn’t looked at him with disgust or pity. That meant a lot and as Dilandau headed towards the cargo hold, he found himself mirroring the king’s smile.

 

Kamata wasn’t nearly as impressed with the landing as Van had been. The dragon snapped at Dilandau the instant he opened the door, forcing the slayer to duck back quickly, which was likely the only thing that kept his head on his shoulders as the lethal tail swung around, tearing a deep chunk out of the door frame.

“Oh like you could have done better!” He snapped at the overgrown lizard, striding boldly into the hold and promptly punching the dragon in the tender nose once again. “You can’t even fly let alone land so don’t go bitching at me.” Ugh, the remains of the two previous crewmen were scattered around the floor in various states of digestion making the dragonslayer more than a little glad that they were leaving the ship because there was no chance in hell he was cleaning up that mess and he rather doubted that Van would be overly inclined to do so either. Actually, the king would most likely inform him that Kamata was His pet, ergo His problem. Little royal bastard.

Attempting to take advantage of Dilandau’s momentary distraction, the dragon snapped at him once again, earning yet another sharp punch to the nose and an ear grab as the albino stepped up to the huge head and glared into the nearest eye, ensuring that he had the dragon’s full attention.

“Here’s the deal Kamata.” He stated in his most no nonsense tone of voice, taking no small amount of satisfaction in how the dragon stiffened slightly. “We’re free, and that means so are you. You can leave us now if you want and try your luck here in the jungle. I don’t think there’s too many dragons this far south, so you shouldn’t have to worry about running into anything bigger than you, but your wings are fucked.” His voice softened for a moment as he glanced over at the sliced patagium. “That’s going to make your life very hard, and we don’t know what else those bastards did to you in there.”

Now that he had a chance to actually examine the dragon in decent lighting, he could see several more scars, fresh looking, marking the beasts flanks and he winced in sympathy.

“You’re welcome to go it on your own, or stick with us. We’ll help feed you, help protect you and I can promise that I’ll make sure you have an abundant supply of assholes to eat, no matter what Van says. In return, you keep helping us out the way you did today.” His eyes narrowed in warning and he gave the beasts head a slight shake. “But if you try to hurt any of us... I’m not called a Dragonslayer for nothing. I have literally eaten dragons bigger than you for breakfast, so don’t forget your place with me.”

Both predators stood there for a long moment, sizing each other up, measuring their wills against each other before the dragon, with a heavy whining huff lowered it’s head in submission. Flashing the beast a wide toothy grin, Dilandau nodded his head and released the captive ear, favouring Kamata with a few pats on the neck.

“Wise decision. Now, I’m going to drag some unconscious people in here so we can all leave. DON’T eat them. They belong to me. You don’t get to eat what belongs to me. Got it?” A soft begrudging sounding hiss was his only reply, but Dilandau took that as acceptance and gave his head a sharp nod. One problem down, two more left.

 

It was only a few minutes later when they all gathered back in the cargo hold. The dragon was sulking in a corner, loudly gnawing on the skull of one of his earlier treats... much to Van’s openly voiced disgust. As for the two survivors, they were still in their torpor,as still as death, but breathing steadily. Dilandau was leaning heavily against the wall of the hold, wishing that he wasn’t as tired as he felt, preparing himself for the long and dangerous trek ahead of them while Van looked just about as ragged and beaten as he divided up his various finds between the two of them.

There wasn’t much as far as emergency gear on board. One blanket, a small box of Basrami gidaru, some old ration bars which were likely older than the two teens and a bag of medical supplies, mostly in the form of gauze, some bandages and a bottle of alcohol. Really, the alcohol and the blanket were the best finds out of the lot. Anything else could be scavenged as needed by either teen as they travelled.

Moving together, they managed to haul the bodies up onto Kamata’s back along with the blanket, money and food. Van carried the medical supplies and Dilandau kept his stun staff in hand. All in all, they made a rather unique looking group as they exited the downed ship... only to come to a sudden stop less than five feet away from the loading plank.

Sitting there as calm as could be, in the middle of a small makeshift camp situated just five feet from the nose of the leviship was an old woman stirring a pot over a fire as if nothing unusual was going on around her.

The two youths stared at her with wide eyes, trying to figure out if this was either a rather elaborate trap, or some strange shared hallucination, but the smell of whatever she was cooking was enticing enough to hold their attention and risk an ambush. It had been ages since either of them had tasted anything but gruel, and whatever was in her pot smelled like gloriously rich stew.

“Took your time in there. You’re thirty minutes late.” The old woman grumbled, not even looking up at them as she began spooning the thick stew into bowls and placing them on a large flat stone in front of her. “Well, don’t just stand there gawking, dinner is getting cold and you boys are obviously starving.”

Crimson eyes met brown as Van and Dilandau exchanged weighted looks. Neither sensed any danger from this stranger, and the idea of warm meaty food was more than either of them could resist.

Slowly, they approached the campsite, studying their surprise host and the surrounding area. The camp was average in all regards, save for it’s peculiar location and impeccable timing. There were three bedrolls laid out on the ground, a silent warning that this strange woman wasn’t alone. There were three bowls of steaming stew laid out expectantly, and three cups of hot tea. The old woman ate and drank from one set, leaving the other two alone, a silent offering to the skittish teenagers.

The woman herself was aged, that sort of age which was etched heavily on her face and body, causing her to stoop badly, unable to fully straighten her spine. Long ragged white hair hung unbound on either side of her head. There were strange tattoos on either cheek in the shape of irregularly sized circles inked in black, and across her brow in a strange deep rose.

Shrewd dark eyes studied them from beneath heavy brows and her nose was overly large, taking up a disproportionate amount of her face. For clothes she wore a motley assortment of rags beneath a dark cloak and a strangely shaped hat stood up from her head, divided into three asymmetrical points.

For all of her ragged appearance, she was adorned with several gaudy pieces of jewellery, mostly in the form of a pair of heavy necklaces gilded in what appeared to be actual gold and set with rather large mismatched jewels. Equally heavy golden hoop earrings hung from her distended lobes and at a guess, Dilandau figured that this strange woman was wearing a small fortune. Odd that she would be dressed in rotting rags and out in the middle of nowhere alone.

“You were expecting us?” Van stepped forwards first, his tone cautious but holding the warmth of someone who had often met helpful strangers in out of the way locations. The woman grinned at them both, showing wide teeth carved from wood and inset with beads of polished glass. The expression was likely intended to be warm and welcoming, but it made the hair on the back of Dilandau’s neck stand up. In his experiences, strangers were never a good thing.

“I was. You’re late. But you’re both young, far younger than I, I should not assume that you would remain focused on the task at hand rather than each other.” There was a hint of wry humour to her voice which caused Van to turn that interesting shade of red once more as he looked away, unable to meet her all too knowing eyes. “Ah, to be young and wild once more...”

“You’re a draconian.” The utter confidence in Van’s voice made Dilandau spin around to stare at him in shock before staring at the crone once again.

“But... we’re the only....”

“Hmph, still as arrogant as ever young captain.” The old woman sniffed, giving the dragonslayer a dark look. “Yes, I am a pure draconian, of the noble house of Gaius, long faded to ash upon the winds of fate.” She smiled at them both, the beads in her teeth glinting brightly in the firelight as the cloak seemed to shift aside on it’s own volition before large wings spouted from her back. Unlike Van and Dilandau’s, hers were an inky black, seeming to trap all colours within their depths, which would have looked rather striking had it not been for their utterly ragged and unkempt appearance. Large swathes of feathers were missing or broken, making her wings look jagged and broken as opposed to their usual graceful shapes. Also, her wings were broader and more rounded, the design more in favour of soaring for long periods of time as opposed to aerial aerobatics.

“Black feathers...” Van gasped softly, sounding both horrified and saddened. “Your life is ending?” He seemed to be honestly ready to grieve for this woman they didn’t know and Dilandau couldn’t quite keep from scoffing at how the young king seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“No young one. My wings have been this shade for longer than I care to remember. I have lived a long time, and shall live a good while more I suspect.” She sighed heavily and a tad melodramatically. “It’s a cruel fate to be the last of your race.”

“Wait a minute.” Van stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at the implied insult. “You’re not the only one. So are we! My mother was Varie Fanel!” Dilandau knew exactly what he was going to do as soon as he saw the king step forward, but just as he held up his hand and opened his mouth to protest, Van’s thin shirt was shredded as long shining wings burst free from his back, spreading wide and glorious across the camp. His shimmering feathers falling about them like new snow.

“...that’s your only shirt...” The dragonslayer sighed softly in mild exasperation, letting his hands drop to his sides. While Dilandau would be one of the first to admit that Van looked utterly gorgeous and fierce, his wings arching out gracefully behind his back, the old woman didn’t appear to be at all impressed. There was little need to point out that using his mother’s married name likely wasn’t going to help identify her to one of her estranged kinsmen. Van was doing a perfectly fine job of looking like a fool all on his own. Albeit, a good looking one.

“I know who she is young one. I know all about you and your brother and your... well... whatever you are.” She motioned towards Dilandau somewhat dismissively, earning herself a sneer from the albino. “A halfbreed and an abomination. You are all that’s left, our only hope for the future.”

“Better than some tawdry dried up old hag who’s wings are so moth eaten she likely couldn’t get off the ground.” The young captain snapped. Insulting Van was one thing, he’d practically walked into that one, but calling him an abomination!? That was going too far! What the hell did this old buzzard know?”

“Hmph, still the rude little beast. One would have thought you’d have learned some manners.” The woman huffed. “Now eat your stew, the two of you are about to fall over because of sheer stubborn pride. Your our only hope for the future. Try not to die before you even get started.” She motioned towards the two bowls of stew with her spoon before digging into her own meal, apparently unconcerned as to whether they joined her or left... or, she already knew the answer.

“Let’s see those wings of yours boy. We need to make sure those madoushi fools of yours didn’t mess those up. Fate knows they screwed everything else up.” She grumbled in irritation, her tone making Dilandau bristle visibly.

As if sensing the dragonslayers rapidly degrading temper, Kamata hissed softly, wondering if the strange smelling woman was about to become dinner. Glancing over at his companion, Van reached out and gently lay a hand on Dilandau’s pale arm, flashing him an encouraging smile.

“You might as well, it’s not like we’re hiding anything at this point.” Brushing off the king’s hand, Dilandau took an aggressive step forward, fixing the old woman with a deadly glare.

“Who are you and why do you speak as though you know me?” There was no way this woman could know about the experiments or how he was made.. but somehow she did, and that made her dangerous. They’d come too far to drop their guard now. Kin or not kin, he’d kill her if she threatened any of them.

Rather than look worried, the old woman blew gently on a chunk of carrot before nibbling on it delicately. Angry armed warlords clearly didn’t matter overly much to her for some reason and that was just a tad intimidating, especially considering what she was.

“We’ve met before you rude little fledgeling. Just prior to the wars first blows, back when you were still safely and securely wrapped in your delusions of a perfect fate as well as your own innate superiority. Heh. Look how well that worked out for you!” She spoke around the carrot, hardly concerned with table manners. Smiling smugly, the woman clearly expected some sort of exclamation of recognition and surprise, but received neither. Instead, Dilandau continued to glare at her blankly, idly pondering how long she’d last if he shoved her damn greasy face into that boiling stewpot.

“The Fortunam Magnam festival.” She prompted, once again receiving a look of blank irritation.

Annoyed now, she placed the bowl on the ground and fixed her full attention on the dragonslayer, waiting for the young fool to dare to mock her.

“You and your child warriors sought your future, eager to bask in glory yet to be earned. You scoffed at my words and mocked my warnings. Now look at you! Alone and adrift on the waves of fate! Had you but listened, perhaps the tides could have been changed.”

Dilandau ignored the insult to his men as well as the blame placed on himself and thought about that day long ago. There’d been their early morning combat demonstration, breakfast, a tour of the market place, purchasing that beautiful sword from the weaponsmith, seeing the first draft of plans for the Teiring guymelefs and laughing at their ludicrous hair extensions, then having utterly incredible sex with Miguel in the repair hangar and nearly getting caught by the shift change...

“The fortune teller.”

“Are you sure?” Nope, he was still drawing a blank, but in his defence, it had been REALLY good sex!

“You insulted my tent!

“Oh!!!” Realization dawned and Dilandau grinned, pointing his finger at her in delight. “The soup lady! I remember now! Sweet fate woman, you gave us joke material for weeks!”

“How could you forget someone like her?” Van leaned over to whisper, not sure if he should be moving away from the other two while they indulged in their little pissing contest.

“Well, she really wasn’t a very good fortune teller.”

“How about you not insult the only person on the planet who might be able to tell us about ourselves?” It was hard for Van to keep the bite out of his voice, but he managed, choosing instead to pick up Dilandau’s bowl of stew and hand it to him, fully aware that the dragonslayer would likely starve himself just to spite the woman. “And show her your wings so she can see that you’re a proud Draconian, not an abomination.”

He really didn’t want to show this woman his wings. She’s insulted him and looked down her disgusting nose at him, but dammit, Van had a point. Really, when it came down to it, he’d done far worse things than this with people he cared little for, besides, she was feeding them.

Putting his bowl down for a moment, Dilandau pulled his shirt over his head then flexed his back, feeling the buildup of pressure then the slick silken cool rush of his wings bursting through his skin. It was still an exhilarating rush to suddenly feel their weight on his shoulders and the rush of the breeze against his delicate feathers. After keeping them tucked away so carefully for a colour, it was wonderful to have them out and he couldn’t resist stretching them as far as he could, pleased to see their shining beauty.

Yeah, he was preening, he could admit it, and what made it better was feeling the weight of Van’s gaze on him as the king did his best to keep his looks discreet.

“Damn sorcerers.” The woman grumbled, after studying the pale draconian for a long moment. “They had one bloody job and they mucked it up.” Dilandau’s wings snapped shut with an audible crack of displaced air and he shot back to his feet, nearly knocking over his food in the process.

“You know what they did to me!?? You were involved?”

“Sit down and eat boy. If I’d been involved, you’d have been made properly. Honestly, the foolish arrogance of humans... They’re worse than we ever were.”

“With all due respect, we are both half human. There’s no need to be insulting.” Van attempted to defuse the situation and seemed to be failing as expected. Behind them, Kamata growled low in warning, agitated by the volatility of the situation.

“You’re half human.” The woman replied, pointing at Van with her spoon. “He’s not.”

Both teenagers choked on their food and stared at her in wide eyes shock.

“What are you talking about woman?!” Dilandau demanded, furious once again as he glared at her through narrowing eyes. Rather than reply, the old draconian took several more bites of her food, not in any hurry to jump to the dragonslayer’s demands.

“Eat first. However you’ve managed to survive so long on your own is beyond me. You have the survival instincts of a suicidal lemming.”

“I want answers not food!”

“Eat or you’ll get neither.” Van couldn’t quite resist a snicker at their bickering and tried to cover up the sound by shoving a chunk of meat into his mouth and chewing loudly. Neither of his companions were fooled and both shot him nearly identical dark looks.

“Something funny Fanel?” Dilandau all but growled, his wings mantling slightly over his shoulders, making it even harder for the young king to keep a straight face at his friends ferocity. Waving a hand indelicately, he motioned for the two of them to continue their... discussion.

Muttering a list of the fanelian’s less than endearing qualities at length, Dilandau chewed on his food, his eyes never leaving the old woman’s, making it clear that this was far from over.

“So... by what name may we call you?” Van finally asked, just to break the silence. Besides, this woman knew who they were, it was only fair that they could say the same.

“I go by many names.” The old woman stated, ignoring how Dilandau rolled his eyes at the predictability of her answer. “But you boys may call me Momma.”

“A lofty title for you to assume.” Van’s dark eyes narrowed slightly at the arrogance of the woman at demanding such a sacred name. Now it was Dilandau’s turn to snicker softly around his food, pleased to see that he wasn’t the only one being needled.

“Have you anyone else currently taking up such a title?” Momma shot back neatly, taking another bite of her food then washing it down with her tea. “Is there anyone else who can teach you as I can? Who can tell you of the past and the future?”

“Actually yes, and I’ll be speaking with her tonight once the moon rises.” Seeing the look on the old buzzards face was suddenly worth all of the insults and Dilandau had to quickly take a sip of tea to keep from choking. Looking inordinately proud of himself, Van raised his glass to his lips and took a deep sip of the scalding liquid.

Their bowls now empty, both teens eyed the remaining stew hungrily, but neither reached for it. After a colour of bland barely palatable gruel, the rich stew would likely make them sick if they ate too much. Unfortunately, after their exhausting day and now full stomachs, both were feeling their eyes grow heavy and their attention begin to drift.

Dimly, they saw the old woman... Momma rise to her feet and take their bowls away to be cleaned later.

“Sleep now, answers will be forthcoming. You’re safe here. Rest so that you may begin your journey.”

“You... still haven’t told me what you know...” Dilandau grumbled, doing his best to keep his eyes open and his body upright, but his vision kept drifting in and out of focus and it was so comfortable to lean against Van, feeling those warm wings wrap around him...

“Patience young one. You never have patience. Rest and grow strong. When the sun rises, the fates will guide you.”

Gently, she placed her hands on theirs, helping them both to their feet and leading them to one of the sleeping rolls where they promptly curled up tightly against each other, wings wrapping around themselves, creating a cocoon of shining feathers. Momma smiled down at them both, her expression filled with fond exasperation. They were nothing like what she’d expected. Oh the arrogance was certainly still there, the haughty pride and stubbornness of youth, but both possessed a strength which she found surprising, and more impressively, the deep wells of power which resonated through them both, flowing between them as easily as river water.

Eyeing the twin feathers they carried around their necks, the old woman shook her head, amazed as always at how fate always found a way no matter how many obstacles fell into it’s path.

“Oh Varie... what have you done?” She murmured softly, stroking bony and crooked fingers through their hair. “A bold and clever move my dear... but at what cost? You’ve set these two on the path of a terrible destiny.” Her face hardened as she pulled her hand back, knowing that to grow attached would be foolishness of the highest regard. “Yes, a terrible destiny, but one filled with greatness. Do not fail us.” Rising to her feet, she pulled the blanket over the entangled lovers then turned to see to the broken children they’d brought with them.

 

 

 

Looking out over the barren and blasted land spread out before him, Allen Schezar adjusted the voluminous hood on his cloak, tugging it down just a little lower. The air was chill and damp today, cutting through his heavy clothing and adding to his loathing of the country. It didn’t matter what sort of exciting and obviously biased brush Dilandau had used to paint the picture of his adopted country, it was still a cold and desolate, possessing some of the worst weather he’d ever had the misfortune to endure. There was no sun in the sky despite all rules of logic stating the contrary. Dark heavy clouds seemed to perpetually hang low over the land and when it wasn’t cloudy, there was strange sort of lightning filled haze that made his skin crawl just to look at it. No wonder everyone from this blasted country was so damn pale, they might as well be nocturnal for all the natural sun they saw.

“It’s time.” Regis stepped up behind the knight, deliberately making noise before approaching within range of the knights sword. The weapon hung heavy at Allen’s hip, not the familiar long sword he was used to. Drawing the blatantly astorian blade would have had pretty much the same effect as standing on a rooftop and screaming out his nationality. No, instead he wielded a zaibachi blade, single edged and lighter than he was used to, with a slight curve to the blade. An elegant weapon, even he had to admit, but it still felt wrong.

Everything about himself felt wrong in this country. Instead of the usual light silks he’d be sporting at this time of year, he was wearing heavy wool breeches and a shirt that clearly had seen several owners before himself. His cloak was made from a coarse material harvested from a hairy goat-like creature that seemed to fill just about every possible purpose in Zaibach. It provided food, leather, wool, milk and enough bad attitude to fit in just find with everything else around it.

His normally lustrous and flowing hair was tightly bound back in a severe braid, keeping it out of his eyes and easily covered with the added benefit of subtly altering the general lines of his face. It had also been dulled with a light dusting of ash, rendering the normally shining golden blonde to a more common sandy tone.

All in all, he was convinced that none of his crew would recognize him if they happened to cross paths. A country of strangers who only knew him from stories wouldn’t have a chance... which was a good thing seeing as how his identity as one of the heroes of the Destiny War likely wouldn’t exactly make him a celebrity this side of the border.

Turning to face the young lord, Allen nodded his head, making no attempt to speak. He could understand the harsh northern tongue well enough, but speaking would reveal his Astorian roots almost as quickly as drawing his sword would.

“Have you seen enough yet?” The young lord’s tone was cool but still polite and Allen knew that it wasn’t exactly personal, the two seemed to get along well enough all things considered. The problem was the open squalor surrounding them. It had only been seven colours since the end of the war, but herein Zaibach, it looked more like ten years.

People shuffled about the streets in drab clothing, their faces gaunt and eyes nervous. Everywhere he looked, children clad in little more than rags openly scrounged through the streets, several of them coughing and obviously sick with fever. Others had banded together into vicious packs, for both protection and strength and they were always alert for an easy attack of opportunity.

After losing the war, the great Academies of Zaibach had been forced to shut down, sending their innumerable war orphaned children back out onto the streets to fight for scraps against equally desperate adults. Several slavery rings operated rather brazenly in the streets, travelling from village to village, gathering up the young and unprotected children, bribing them with offers of a warm bed and good food. Allen didn’t even want to think about what their true fate would be.

Buildings were already showing signs of disrepair and abandonment. With the many factories, the backbone of Zaibach’s war economy torn down, the surrounding villages were left with nothing to support themselves. There were only a few regions where the soil was fertile enough to be profitable, everywhere else had focused on supplying the vast and always hungry military.

With winter looming, the knight knew that it was only going to get worse. Already scarce food would become nonexistent, decent shelter would be at a premium and the government was too busy trying to serve their own individual interests to worry about the country at large.

As if rubbing salt on an already raw wound, Allen had already seen three “Inspectors” travelling through this village alone. From various allied countries, these men demanded the best of the towns already meagre provisions. Be it food, property or even flesh, no one dared oppose them and any who tried were summarily beaten down or worse, charged with “Instigating Insurrection” A crime punishable by hanging.

To drive this very real threat home, gallows had been erected in the village town square. Hanging from the twisted metal archway were two men and a woman, long dead and rotting, their flesh feasted on by crows. Two wore the long black cloaks announcing themselves as sorcerers, a master and an apprentice it would seem, seeing as how the girl was barely more than twelve. As for the other, he bore around his broken neck a placard accusing him on insurrection, though from the whispers of the villagers, he’d merely stood up to some “inspectors” who’d felt the need to take a much closer look at his daughter. Just looking at those swaying forms turned Allen’s stomach and he loathed the fact that no one dared cut them down and give them the dignity of a decent burial. He would do it himself but he couldn’t risk revealing his identity. Still, it bothered him incessantly and he felt himself to be a coward for his inaction.

“It’s worse in the cities.” Regis murmured as he followed the knight’s line of sight. “People are being accused of being a Madoushi constantly and the trials are a joke. If there ever had been as many sorcerers as have been hung, Zaibach would have conquered Gaea a century ago.”

“So why do it?” He kept his voice low as they walked, his eyes darting left and right warily, ensuring that no one took any special note of them. At least men wearing hooded cloaks was a common enough sight. The locals likely took him for just as another slaver.

“Why accuse? For that feeling of power I suppose, to feel that there is something they can do... revenge possibly. It’s a rather convenient way to remove an enemy for some slight or another. Also, people are scared and see things that aren’t there. As you said earlier, the general population knew nothing of the Emperor’s true plans. We’d been promised a perfect future, a paradise. That’s what these people were fighting for. A new golden age.” He motioned towards a faded propaganda poster hidden away on a back wall, out of direct view of the street. The knight winced to see that it featured Dilandau’s beautiful bold face, his dragonslayers arrayed out behind him with that damn crimson Alseides standing tall in the background. “Seize a better future! Enlist now!” It boldly proclaimed. There were even directions to the nearest recruitment office and a quick list of the benefits provided by the military for all new personnel. What with the open squalor and paranoia, it was surprising to see anything so openly pro military being displayed.

“If the wrong people saw that, this village could be torn apart in a search for contraband technology or arms. It’s the people’s way of showing their defiance.” Regis smiled grimly, giving the poster a respectful nod, a look of longing in his eyes as he no doubt pictured the living breathing captain and his quest to see the warlord returned. “We might have lost the war, but our spirit will never break.”

“Nor should it.” Allen couldn’t help but reply, feeling a tug on his own heart at the sight of his little brother’s face ginning cockily out at him. “I’ve always admired the strength and resilience of the zaibach people.”

“Even when it’s turned against you?” The youth raised an eyebrow slightly, the look reminiscent of a particular dragonslayer and Allen allowed himself a grim smile.

“My war was not with the people, merely the ideals being followed.”

“Pity King Aston didn’t share your beliefs. _Rip_ _out_ _their teeth and let them starve like the feral animals they are_. Those were his words to his council. Did you know that?” Allen grimaced at the cruel statement, remembering the self satisfied smirk on his king’s face, as if he were savouring a particularly delicious revenge.

“Yes... I was there for that council meeting.”

“As was my father.” There was pain in the young lord’s voice and Allen could just imagine the rage that must have torn through the youth to hear his countrymen be condemned so callously. “He did nothing of course, said nothing. No, instead he signed the treaty agreeing to send more than half our winter stores to the allied countries, leaving barely any food to supply the outer villages for a month let alone the winter.” There was no response Allen could give that wouldn’t sound like a thinly veiled insult, so he instead remained silent as they slipped down various narrow alleyways, stepping over the odd beggar, coughing out their fluid filled lungs as they lay there shivering on the damp earth.

Discreetly covering his mouth and nose with the hood of his cloak, Allen prayed that whatever they had wasn’t contagious.

“I understand that we lost, that some reparations must be paid, but this?” Regis made a hand motion to encompass everything around them. “We’re dying by inches and the rest of Gaea is sitting back and sneering at us, telling us that this slow inglorious death is better than we deserve.”

“And speaking out like that is sure to get you a prime spot on the gallows should the wrong ears hear you.” A woman’s voice coldly chastised the young lord from a darkened doorway. Allen spun around, his hand on his sword, ready to draw at a moment’s notice even as Regis stiffened and swore softly.

Standing in the shadows was a tall zaibachi woman in her late forties, though she carried her age well. There were few lines on her stern face save for between her brows and edging her mouth, warning that this was a woman most unfamiliar with smiles. Her cool jade green eyes studied them both with startling intensity, as if peeling them apart layer by layer and not finding anything worth her full attention. Light brown hair had been pulled back into a severe bun, leaving the sharp planes of her face bared to the world. Thin lips pressed together in a tight line of disapproval.

“Do tell me that you’re at least somewhat more discreet in Astoria than you are here.” She muttered, stepping aside slightly and motioning for them to enter. “How you haven’t been hung yet boggles my mind.”

“Blind luck and a charming smile?” Regis replied smoothly, having recovered well from his shock as he stepped inside the building, indicating that Allen should follow.

“Hmph, dumb luck more like it.” Those cold eyes glanced at Allen once more. “And then you go and bring Him here? Honestly, what is it about that captain that robs smart boys of their good sense?”

“Do not mistake a willingness to do whatever it takes as a lack of sense. I intend to see this through no matter the cost.” Regis sounded stung at her accusations though his voice remained level. Allen himself chose to remain silent, following the two as they headed deeper into the old building, coming across a crumbling section of wall that had seen much better days.

Walking up to it, the woman pressed several cracked areas of plaster, the small sections seemed to sink in on themselves before the wall gave a soft click. Allen half expected a door to suddenly open up in front of them, or perhaps a hidden trapdoor unlock. Instead, the woman tuned away and headed down yet another hallway, no doubt amused at the fact that his assumptions had been written across his face.

This time, she led them to a lavatory of all places, causing Allen to blush slightly despite himself and he did his best not to stare at she walked towards the shower stall and carefully depressed several of the pale ceramic tiles. Another soft click could be heard and then the bottom of the stall slid back, revealing a narrow set of stairs.

Allen glanced at Regis who once again looked perfectly familiar with this sort of strangeness and the young lord favoured him with a slight smile.

“The first disarms some traps and primes this lock to be released. If you don’t do it right, this room floods with gas. If you do nothing, the shower is just that, a simple shower.” He explained, earning himself a disgusted huff from the woman as she descended the stairs.

“Shall you tell him our codes next? Perhaps provide a map of all of our doorways? I’d thought you smarter than this.”

“He’s an ally.” The teenager protested politely, never once raising his voice or sharpening his words.

“Until he is not. If you want to get yourself killed, that’s your business, but leave the rest of us out of this. He’s one of the people responsible for this suffering. He and his precious friends.”

Allen had no clue who this woman was, but she certainly seemed to know him. That was more than a little unsettling, but he held his peace until they came to the end of the narrow stairs, finding themselves in what appeared to be abandoned sewers or some such thing. The walls were high and rounded, made of rather featureless stone stretching in all directions. The floor was old earth, packed down from what appeared to be years of use. It was dark in there, lit only by sconces set intermittently in the walls, chips of degrading blue energist smouldering in their small dishes. It drained everyone’s complexions of any healthy colour, but ensured that night sight wouldn’t be ruined despite the illumination.

“It was war.” Regis’ voice was still soft and polite indicating that this was a woman clearly worthy of respect despite her rather low opinion of Allen and the knight chose to honour that respect rather than reply in kind. Besides, he was more or less at her mercy currently.

“Madam,” The knight bowed deeply, his hand pressing against his heart in a show of sincerity. “I do not know what trespasses I’ve committed against you but I do humbly apologize and plead that it was not an act of personal intent. As the young lord states, it was war and many transgressions occurred on both sides. For whatever part I might have played in your sorrows, I do deeply apologize.”

Most women would have softened at his gentle words and soft smile, even the coldest crone would have been thawed at least by his clear sincerity. This woman however did not appear to be moved.

“Go fuck yourself.” No, clearly not moved at all. Regis coughed softly, obviously seeking to interject as Allen began to finally visibly bristle. Yes, he was aware that the women of Zaibach were a tad... cruder than those of most other civilized countries, but the vulgarity of her words was stunning! No wonder Dilandau had developed such a foul mouth.

“I beg your pardon-”

“Beg all you want you pompous overblown silk wearing butcher.” The woman hissed, clearly spoiling for a fight and not looking at all intimidated by the fact that her opponent was not only armed, but one of the greatest swordsmen alive.

“My son is dead because of you and your friends. Your pretty words will never bring him back. Your pardons will not save my people and your precious manners will not put an end to this madness that’s crushing us alive. So yes. Until you are truly willing to put those pretty words of yours into action, Go.Fuck.Yourself.”

Allen was beginning to feel that he just might be out of his depth here.

“Is Master Geetha in today?” Regis stepped between the two, giving the woman his widest and most apologetic smile. “Her news sounded rather important after all...” He let his voice trail off rather pointedly and the woman broke off her glaring contest to look over at him and nod.

“Don’t think that I don’t recognize the fact that you’re attempting to distract me. I was playing such games before you were a stain on your father’s pants.”

“And I thank you for that lovely mental image... now, Master Geetha?” His smile grew wider and more disarming, so much so that even Allen had to admit that he was perhaps a tad impressed. It seemed that this vicious harridan of a woman wasn’t as immune to the boy’s charm as she was his because her frown softened noticeably and she gave her head a brusque nod.

“The lab, where else. I swear, she lives there.”

“She likely does.” Regis flashed the woman another wide smile and shrugged almost playfully, acting as if there hadn’t just been a potentially deadly standoff only moments ago. The young lord began walking down the labyrinthine hallways with an obvious familiarity that Allen found a tad unsettling, though his primary concern was the harridan who insisted on following them, radiating open hostility and suspicion.

“If I may be so bold as to ask, what is the purpose of this... place?” Allen found himself asking, eyeing several ducts which ran overhead, noticing the bundles of wires hidden above them in the shadows. He made a point of keeping his voice pitched low, having heard the soft murmurs of other voices drifting down the various tunnels, warning them that they were not alone. If the other inhabitants of this rabbit warren were as warm and welcoming as this woman... he’d be skinned alive and set on fire before he could blink.

“Why should I tell you?” The woman’s rudeness no longer surprised him, though he did give her a pointed look as if to say _I’m here already, you might as well accept it._ “This is a last resort for those who’s lives are in danger because the righteous allied forces decided that their lives were no longer of value.” The sneer was evident in her voice. “Officers who refused to accept their prettily named exile into obscurity, Madoushi who’s only crime was donning a black cloak, shopkeepers who stood up for themselves, women who refused to be raped by your precious “Inspectors”. Here we house children we’ve liberated from slavers, heal those injured in the war and those who refuse to crawl on their bellies like our _beloved_ Emperor Vashinel.” As if the rather blatant sneer wasn’t enough, the woman then spit on the floor at the name of their current emperor. Allen couldn’t help but smile dryly at the display.

“I take it you are not a fan.”

“That pompous bastard has his tongue so far up the collective asses of the allies that he doesn’t even realize he’s getting fucked by a damn goat.” Well, that was certainly far coarser than he was expecting. Perhaps he did in fact owe Dilandau an apology, it seemed that his brother had actually been telling the truth regarding his “lack” of vulgarity.

“No one here looks at our current ruling body in a favourable light.” Regis translated somewhat belatedly, flashing Allen an apologetic grin.

“Yes... I am beginning to see that.” It was pretty much the most diplomatic thing the knight felt like he could say. While the leaders of Zaibach were obviously either incompetent or utterly uninterested in actually protecting their people, they were still the legal rulers of the land, and therefore must be obeyed... but he himself had bent more than a few rules lately and could hardly blame them for seeking to defend themselves. At last they were just hiding and protecting each other, it’s not as if they were actively moving against their own government... he hoped.

“Who would you have lead you then?” He desperately hoped that they weren’t following some mysterious sorcerer. While he might see Lord Regis as a young man with his heart in the right place, he still had little love for those who had knowingly stolen his sister and twisted her into the violent warlord she’d become. While he might cherish Dilandau despite all of his... many idiosyncrasies, that still did not absolve his tormentors.

“We’ve found someone capable.” The woman replied smugly, giving Allen a sidelong smirk that he didn’t trust for a moment. There was no further attempt at elaboration as the harridan instead chose to open the door they’d stopped at and step in.

Inside was exactly what he’d expected when he’d heard the words “Madoushi” and “lab”. It was a large room, far larger than the original design had likely intended, but it was necessary to house the vast amounts of machinery. Everywhere he looked, there were glowing cylinders, large shining orbs filled with lighted view ports, wires connecting to spinning devices and more view screens than he ever wanted to see again in his life.

The air was uncomfortably warm inside and frightfully dry, threatening to cause his lips to crack and his hair to frizz mere moments after entering. The dozens of cloak wearing people bustling about seemed to either not notice the temperature, or simply not care. Each one was busy studying readouts, poking at various devices or in the case of one young man, taking apart a rabbit and placing various slices of it’s organs onto glass slides.

No one paid any attention to their entrance, they were far too absorbed with their work, allowing the trio to freely enter and move about the technological nightmare.

As they moved past strange device, after lab station after bizarre crystal lattice, they finally came upon a woman much the same age as the harridan. Her vibrantly green hair had been shaved on on side, leaving her scalp bare, but left long on the other and held back with a small golden clasp. Thin in body and features, her face resembled a hatchet, all sharp angles and not a hint of feminine softness. Like Folken, she wore pigmentation around her slate grey eyes, accenting them in an almost pretty fashion, making the knight wonder if that was some sort of status symbol within the sorcerer’s ranks, or merely some strange collective character affectation.

Her stork thin body was clothed in what appeared to be a simple white blouse and leather breeches beneath her long heavy cloak, though she wore around her neck a heavy gold pendant, the sort which would house a tiny portrait inside. All in all, he had to admit that this was not quite the intimidating figure he’d been expecting, however when her eyes glanced in his direction, he could clearly feel the weight of a formidable intelligence behind them.

What struck him then was the man she was arguing quietly with. He was a tall man and solidly built, carrying himself with a steadiness which spoke of confidence and a life of hard physical activity. As pale of skin as his fellows, he possessed a thick head of brown hair, with matching beard and moustache, all neatly trimmed and well kept. Though he wore simple homespun cloth beneath light leather, there was something about the outfit that reminded Allen of a uniform, and the sword scabbard hanging from his hip was old, well used and carefully tended to.

Even from where he stood, Allen could feel the weight of the man’s charisma and knew without a doubt that this was the aforementioned leader of these “rebels”. More importantly, he knew this man well and felt as if he’d just walked into a dragon’s den woefully unarmed.

“General Gein Adelphos.” Allen murmured, unable to quite suppress his shock. Turning slowly, the man in question looked at the astorian knight, his hand casually resting on the butt of his sword. Those storm grey eyes never wavered for an instant as they met his gaze, studying him with a casual curiosity that didn’t fool the knight for a moment.

“Sir Allen Schezar,” The man’s voice was a deep rumble but the force behind it commanded instant respect. “You are quite a ways away from the palace courts of Astoria.”

“And you are supposed to be tending the lands along the northern borders of Zaibach.” The knight replied succinctly, his blue eyes narrowing. “Is my geography amiss? While there is a certain nip to the air, it doesn’t feel like Northern Zaibach.” Oh, he and little Lord Falafell were going to have words later... a great many words.

“I assure you Sir Allen that should anyone see fit to inquire, they will find me happily tending to my herds of goats and waging petty wars against our local population of polar bears. You on the other hand... I very much doubt that you are still touring the borders of Astoria with your little crew and beloved sister. How is the dear girl these days?”

Regis caught him as he lunged and the harridan had a knife at his neck before he could blink. His sword hadn’t even cleared it’s sheath but that didn’t matter seeing as how Adelphos hadn’t so much as batted an eye.

“You know very well how my sister fares!” Allen snarled, shaking himself free of Regis’ grip though not moving against the knife. The harridan was far too eager to put it to use. “Was this all some plot of yours? Seeking to get your attack dog brought to heel at the expense of my family?”

Adelphos made a slight motion with his hand and the knife wielding harpy removed the blade, taking a cautious step back. She didn’t look pleased with the command, but at this moment Allen couldn’t find it within himself to care.

“Come now Sir Allen, I had thought you a man of great intellect and cunning. Why ever would I wish Captain Albatou at my side during such delicate times. He is a creature of war, not stealth. Also, had I wished his presence, I would have simply ordered it rather than indulged in these foolish games.” Those dark eyes stared into his, unblinking and utterly unashamed of his claims. “He is my dog to command, have no doubt of that, but I assure you that I am as much vexed as you regarding our current circumstance.” Shifting slightly, he glanced at the woman sorcerer, a slight frown crossing his face. “I also would never resort to such honourless methods to bring him to heel.”

“Then tell me where to find this Shroden, so that I might tear him apart with my own hands.” Allen’s searing blue gaze latched onto the sorcerer, demanding answers.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out...” The madoushi woman chewed her lip somewhat nervously, her eyes darting from one dangerous man to the other. “Unless you two want to fight it out... which I wouldn’t recommend by the way, at least not in here... breakable stuff... please don’t.” Just in case they didn’t heed her advice, the took a somewhat exaggerated step back and quietly motioned for Regis to do the same.

“There is no need for that Lady Geetha, do continue with your explanations, I’m quite sure that Sir Allen will find them to be most illuminating.” Adelphos nodded in her direction and motioned for the knight to stand closer. He naturally declined, the offer, still attempting to grasp the very fact that he was standing only a few feet away from one of the most dangerous men on Gaea. General Adelphos had led the Four Demon Armies of Zaibach and had been Dilandau’s direct superior. He’d been the man truly holding his little brother’s leash and Allen couldn’t help but wonder just how far that control extended. Had he worked with the sorcerers in torturing the youth? He’d certainly had little problem sending a mere child into battle, forcing him to kill.

Geetha, the sorcerer took a moment to study the group, likely trying to assure herself that it was going to be safe to look away. Sensing her nervousness, or just possibly being used to her oddities, Regis slipped over to her side, offering the support of his calming presence.

“You’d said that the Machine activated? That it had picked up Captain Albatou’s energy signature?” He prompted and the woman’s grey eyes widened as she nodded.

“Yes! Yes... the machine...”

“Oh bloody hell,” The harridan grumbled under her breath. “Has she been drinking vetch again? Where is that pathetic excuse of a penile implant... He’d sworn to me that he’d keep her away from it!” Her angry words echoed throughout the room as she stalked off in search of new prey and Allen couldn’t help but notice that several of the cloaked figures were quickly moving out of her way, several nearly tripping over themselves in their haste. It seemed that she was a lovely ball of sunshine to everyone here, not merely him.

“The machine...” The sorcerer paid no attention to the vulgarity laced exit, instead she spun around to face the huge crystalline casement resting behind her, glowing somewhat ominously with strange lights flickering within it’s milky depths. Several wires were attached to it’s surface, as well as shining nodes of polished energist, whil at it’s base, a console covered in buttons and dials hummed merrily away. “A colour ago... just over a colour ago I noticed activity within our archives. Hidden files, locked away and encoded. They were top security, no one should have even known they existed... but they were opened. I checked the access codes and it was Lord Shroden! That’s bad, that’s very bad.” She murmured somewhat nervously.

“He’d been missing since the fall... Hidden away... several of us hid from the fires and death, so many eyes watching us...” Regis placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze, offering silent encouragement. His eyes were filled with patience and a strange sadness, making Allen believe that this wasn’t the woman’s normal state of being. Could this be the result of whatever that “vetch” substance was? Or had she been utterly unnerved by what she’d learned?

“The files, the Eidolon files... they were accessed. I warned everyone, said we should have purged the system when we learned that he’d copied it all... but no... too much knowledge lost, couldn’t risk losing all our work forever.. too valuable... feck! Look where that’s got us now!”

“Master Geetha, calm, please. Tell us what happened.” Regis shifted so that he stood in front of her, forcing the woman to stare into his eyes as he breathed slowly and calmly, soothing her as she began to match him.

“She’s not going to stay calm and you know it boy.” Lovely, the harridan was back. Allen wanted to swear under his breath, but he didn’t get a chance before she rudely brushed past him and held up a small bladder for General Adelphos’ inspection. “Ventriol.” She stated, as if that was supposed to mean anything.

“Very well.” The man didn’t sound as if he truly approved, but there was a sort of weary acceptance as he nodded his had. “Make it quick. We need to get to the bottom of this before the issues grow worse. Once we’re finished here however, I wish you to find whoever is supplying her with that garbage and ensure that they do not interfere again.” There was a finality to his voice that didn’t speak well of the lifespan of the responsible party.

Smiling at the prospect of stabbing someone, the harridan held the bladder to the sorcerer’s nose and squeeze hard. A strong smelling scent filled the air as Geetha jerked back in surprise, blinking her eyes rapidly as they began to tear. Oddly enough, her eye makeup didn’t run at all... tattoos? Jeture the Zaibachi were odd.

Within less than a minute, the sorcerer seemed to have calmed down and she took a deep bracing breath before turning away to face the machine, a hint of guilt colouring her cheeks.

“Thank you Sibille.” Aha! The harridan had a name after all!

“Hmph, you won’t be thanking me once that crap wears off. Sweet fate woman, stop drinking that garbage! You know it makes you as useless as a dead dick.”

“Yes... yes I know... it’s just...” Geetha sighed softly and closed her eyes. “It’s bad enough that someone accessed the files, the information contained within... they could recreate the experiments, wreak untold damage upon Gaea and the lives upon her.”

“Perhaps that should have been considered before you and your ilk began twisting the fates of small children.” Allen couldn’t resist growling, earning himself several dark looks. Rather than argue as he expected, the sorcerer nodded her head in acceptance of her actions, her thin shoulders slumping.

“Yes... you’re absolutely right Sir Allen Schezar. What we did to your sister... to so many others was terrible beyond words and no apology will ever undo our culpability.” Her guilt was gone in an eye blink as she opened her eyes and looked once more upon the strange machine. “But guilt solves nothing. We must move forward or be left behind in the ashes.”

Reaching out, she picked up a clipboard with notes jotted across it in an ornate scrawl that Allen couldn’t hope to decipher if he had a decade to do so.

“You see, it’s all here... a few hours after the security was breached, the Causality Rate Detecting Device registered a massive jump in readings.” She tapped some strange irregular lines and series of glyphs with a well chewed fingertip. Only Regis seemed to look like he understood it.

“But... those readings are impossible. That’s Strategos Folken’s device from the Vione... even if the Strategos had gotten it back in working order... which...” Regis sighed in mild frustration “Which he apparently did, it should only be picking up ambient energy. To cause readings like that...” He actually paled slightly, looking well and truly terrified.

“Yes! Yes you see!?” Geetha nodded her head vigorously and Sibille leaned forward to glance at the notes.

“Yeah, great, terrifying, fate altering... care to tell the rest of us what the hell we’re looking at?”

“Sibille,” General Adelphos rumbled softly. “Let her finish.” Amazingly, the harridan didn’t argue, in fact, she looked properly chastised. That raised Allen’s respect for the man tenfold.

“There was a sudden and unprecedented buildup of Fate Particles in a concentrated area.” The sorcerer explained, looking between Allen and Adelphos, obviously simplifying things so that they could understand. Unfortunately, Allen had the distinct feeling that he was coming in halfway through a story because while the general nodded his head in understanding, the knight still wasn’t sure what in Jeture’s name a fate particle was.

“There’s been little blips a few days prior to that, registering on the border of Astoria, but nothing on this scale. This was massive and dangerous and the readings indicate that its epicentre was within the palace of Astoria!”

“That can’t be accurate.” Regis murmured, flipping through several pages of readings, as if there might be some clue hidden within. “I was at the palace that night, nothing was reported... well, nothing like that. A few guards seeing things and...” He broke off, his gaze darting over to Allen.

“That’s the night they vanished isn’t it.” He voice sounded too calm for it to be real. This was all insane... had Dilandau done something to spirit himself and Van away? Had they been chasing ghosts all this time?

“Yes...”

“But Subject 35 shouldn’t be able to cause such a disruption!” The sorcerer protested, the title causing Allen to bristle visibly.

“Madam.” He growled through his teeth. “That is my brother whom you are referring to. It would behoove you to use his name rather than that foul designation. I assure you, he is a person and a recognized noble of Astoria, to call him anything but his name would be of utmost disrespect.” The woman looked at him confused, as if she had no understanding of what he was saying, though the general seemed to be appraising him in a new light.

“Of... of course... apologies... um... what name was it...e r... he.. what name was he given?” Though she corrected herself, having noticed Allen’s murderous glare, it went far to demonstrate the sort of environment the dragonslayer had grown up with. Sweet Jeture, no wonder the boy had issues!

“He was named Dilandau Albatou and holds the rank of Captain.” Adelphos stated while Allen was busy contemplating growing up in such a cold and distanced childhood. The respect in the man’s voice actually surprised the knight. He’d expected the general to act as if Dilandau was nothing more than a weapon, but there seemed to be honest respect for the youth.

“Yes... of course. Captain Albatou should not be capable of causing such a disruption. Not on his own at any rate. He’d require an energy source, a powerful catalyst and the drugs in his system should prevent him from reacting to...to... He’s off his medication isn’t he?” The woman interrupted herself as she noticed the look on Allen’s face. “Sweet fate man! Are you trying to get yourself killed?! The subj- the boy is unstable! He was slated for termination just prior to his regression but-”

“I would suggest you choose your next words very carefully My Lady.” Allen growled in a low and dangerous voice, his hand on his sword, ready to draw. “That boy is family.”

“With all due respect Sir Allen, that is not your brother.” Geetha finally met his eyes, staring at him levelly. “Yes, Celena Schezar is your sister, but Captain Dilandau Albatou is not your brother. He’s not even human. He’s a chimera of sorts using the body of Celena Schezar as a base.” Utterly oblivious to the look of stricken horror on Allen’s face, the woman seemed to light up as she launched into what she no doubt considered a rather fascinating topic. “Truly, he is a most fascinating subject. Celena Schezar herself possessed an extraordinary level of fate particles, quite unprecedented for a human being, let alone a small child. With Captain Albatou on the other hand, he-!”

“That is enough Geetha.” Adelphos gently rested a hand on her shoulder, the look in his eyes warning her to silence. “Unless it has a direct link to what we’re investigating, there is little need to dredge up such foul experiments. Let that dishonour lay in the past where it belongs.

“Of course sir.” Seeming to snap back from her overexcited bbble of moments ago, the sorcerer tapped her clipboard once more. “If the captain is not receiving his regular medications or having his excess particles harvested then he is a danger to himself and those around him.”

“What sort of danger?” This time it was Regis who spoke up, concern radiating from him in waves. “It’s been over a colour since he’s been missing...”

“Well... these are the readings from when I contacted you, the night the machine activated...” She flipped to another page and even Allen could see that something drastic had occurred judging by the jagged lines. “And these ones...” Geetha picked up a second clipboard which had previously been laying on top of the console unnoticed. “I’ve been picking up powerful readings for the past colour, concentrated bursts mostly.”

“Let me guess... their location is somewhere in Basram?” Allen all but snarled, ready to march down to that damn discount Zaibach kingdom and start cleaving heads from necks!

“It’s difficult to tell... We’ve been getting strange readings from down south, but if there’s a Fate Alteration Engine in Basram, that would explain other readings I’ve been following. Still, they weren’t nearly as high level as what we’re experiencing now, and Subject 35 wasn’t present. He only appeared a colour ago... give or take a few days.”

“And how do you know that Albatou is involved?” Adelphos pinched the bridge of his nose, looking as if he was feeling a tremendous headache coming on. A headache in the shape of a slender albino who seemed to drag all sorts of trouble in his wake.

“Well sir,” Geetha pointed to several ornate squiggles on the page. “Each Subject in the Eidolon project had a very specific signature, a fate fingerprint if you will. This one belongs to Subject 35... Captain Dilandau Albatou.” She held up both clipboards for comparison, but there was far too much written on them for anyone but another sorcerer to be capable of deciphering it. “But that’s not what’s truly worrisome.”

Everyone seemed to stiffen at her words and even the general seemed to pale. It was good to know that he wasn’t the only one suffering from Dilandau induced ulcers.

“Go on.” The general sounded as if he really wished she wouldn’t. Either not noticing his reluctance, or simply being too carried away with her exposition to notice, the woman flipped to a new sheet and held it out for their inspection.

“This is from yesterday afternoon.”

“Empty Fate...” Regis breathed, a look of pure horror on his face. “This can’t be right... it can’t be possible!”

“What? What are we looking at?” Allen leaned forward, more than a little worried and even general Adelphos couldn’t resist staring at the sheets, trying to decipher the coded notes.

“A Zone of Absolute Fortune.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!!! THEY FINALLY KISSED!!! Funny how that always happens after Dilandau steals then crashes a leviship. Really, that's hadn't been intended to sort of shadow how he hooked up with Gaddes, it really didn't... ahem. Still, they're damn adorable!
> 
> Thank you to Alora+Pendrak for giving the idea of having Momma Fortuna, a character from one of my Yearly Esca 2017 challenges show back up. Hope you like her and yeah, shes still a little sore over the whole "Soup Recipe" comment.
> 
> So woot! We have General Adelphos back in the mix! You all knew that there's no way he'd quietly sit back and chill after the war, not when he'd so vehemently vowed vengeance from the ruins of his Floating Fortress. Copper Army will never yield!!
> 
> I've been dying to show post war Zaibach for a while now and I tried to keep it relatively realistic, trying to follow the state Germany was in after WWI... and we know how well that ended.... Yeah, it's a tad more extreme here on Gaea, but well, everything is more extreme there. And hey! Underground Madoushi railroad! The problem is, can they be trusted? And what the hell is Sibille's problem with Allen? Is it because he was the enemy or did he personally kill her son?
> 
> Next Chapter: How to win friends and influence people!


	11. Fly Me to the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in a strange jungle is only the beginning of their problems. They're still lost, still hunted... and they're not the only one's out here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne, you know the drill. No money and all that.
> 
> So I'm aiming for hitting 100k for NaNoWriMo and I'm about 8k off of it at the time of this posting. I'm hoping to make it by tonight, but it will likely be tomorrow afternoon. The postings will slow down after this weekend as I've managed to secure a new job *YAY* and will be starting on Monday. Wish me luck in the wide world of adulting! You'd think it would get easier with time.  
> Anyway, If you're curious as to where our "heroes" are in the story in relation to everything, I have made a handy map of Gaea that can be found at: https://nehasy.deviantart.com/art/Dragons-in-the-Ashes-Map-715787657?ga_submit_new=10%3A1511058700
> 
> Special thanks to Drkstars/Ivoybyrd for being my beta and providing advice, humour and the reactions of one poor character at the end.

He could barely remember the last time he’d felt so wonderfully warm and comfortable. A perfect heat seemed to radiate around him, soothing aching muscles down to the bone and warming him from the inside out. The feel of warm breath tickling his neck and the soothing weight of limbs entwined with his own told him that Dilandau was still with him and he couldn’t quite resist the urge to tighten his grip around the other youth, determined to do his best to keep him there. It had been so long since he’d woken up feeling so safe, so warm so.... they weren’t in their cell.

Blinking in confusion, Van opened his eyes and looked around, trying not to disturb his slumbering companion. They were wrapped in a blanket of feathers... wings... their wings were out? That took a few moments to process, not helped at all by the strong desire to simply close his eyes again and drift back into the comfortable haze of sleep.

Memories filled his mind... the experiment, those strange realities flashing around them, pulling them into lives they’d never experienced and deaths they hopefully avoided. He remembered their terrifying crawl though darkened hallways inhabited by nightmares, the dragonride through horrific battle and the crash which had led to the kiss... He’d KISSED Dilandau!!! What in the name of all the gods had he been thinking? Well, clearly he hadn’t been thinking at all! Only... only those lips had been so soft and warm, he’d tasted absolutely brilliant and even just thinking about those hands sliding through his hair, those lips hungrily exploring his own made everything tighten deep inside his body and he couldn’t quite bite back a low groan.

It had felt like he was falling from a dizzying height, soaring above the clouds... like he was on fire and dashed into ice water all at once! He’d tasted pure exhilaration on those lips and had felt more alive than ever before... so... what did that make him? Did that mean that he didn’t love Hitomi? Was he now some sort of social freak? Sure, he knew that such behaviour happened at times when men spent long weeks away from home on campaign, but it was never really openly spoken of and Balgus had never really been comfortable discussing anything involving sex, usually telling Van that he’d figure it out when the time came. In contrast, Zaibach seemed to practically promote such relationships, often claiming that their warriors fought harder because their lovers were right there in battle with them. While prior to the war, most countries begrudgingly would admit that they did seem to have a point considering the former empire’s formidable prowess in battle. Since their fall, it had become just another “flaw” for the victors to mock.

Van was torn, not just on his own reactions, but those of the dragonslayer. Was this just a spur of the moment thing? Just a few moments of shared pleasure between them? Was it some strange and cunning trap designed to make him lower his guard? Or was there more to it? If there was... did he want there to be? Oh sweet gods Allen was going to kill him!

“Mmmm stop worrying Van.” Dilandau mumbled against the king’s neck, his lips gently brushing the sensitive skin of Van’s throat. The electrifying sensation made the darker youth’s back arch in pleasure as his body came alive, several organs in specific perking up with interest. “I can practically feel your brain overheating.”

“Just... just picturing what Allen would do if he saw us like this.” Van felt pathetic for admitting it but Dilandau chuckled warmly and nibbled on some hitherto unknown magical spot on Van’s neck that sent shock waves of pleasure tearing through his body.

“Oh, he’d rant and rave about my virtue, accuse you of seducing me and likely challenge you to a duel.” The dragonslayer grinned to himself and Van could feel the expression against his skin. “Being ever the great hero, you’d of course accept, even knowing that he’d kick your ass, forcing me to step in and slap some common sense into both of you.” He paused for a moment, picturing that no doubt treasured image. “Then I’d have to hit you both again for making me be the sensible one. I hate that.”

The wings draped over them shifted slightly, pressing their bodies more closely together as those delicate nibbles evolved into actual kisses. Liquid fire traced patterns on his skin as that searingly hot tongue tasted his flesh, turning Van’s moans into soft whimpers. He was dying... he had to be dying, that was the only reason his heart was hammering in his chest hard enough to crack his ribs. The press of that body against this own... every point of contact felt like pure light sparking and shimmering as it traced a path straight to his groin and he never wanted this to end!

A loud screeching huff pulled their attention away from each other abruptly, shattering the golden cocoon of sensation being wrapped around them. It was full of impatience and challenge as the dragon made it abundantly clear that they’d lain here long enough and it was long past time to move.

“Fucking cock blocking dragon.” There was a soft thump as Dilandau gently banged his head against Van’s chest, frustration evident in the soft dangerous growl. “I swear, I’m going to skin him then carve him into steaks for dinner THEN rip out his fucking enrgist and hang it around my neck like a bloody pendant....and...what the...where the FUCK IS OUR SHIP!?!” The warmth of his body pulled away abruptly as Dilandau shot to his feet, using his wings to propel himself into the air for a moment before settling, his eyes blazing in righteous wrath and no small amount of confusion.

A few feet away, Kamata, who was currently curled up around the two survivors yawned widely and gave a soft grunt as he watched the antics of the angry draconian.

Sitting up, Van did his best to ignore the raging hardness in his trousers and looked around. They were still in their camp... well, Momma’s camp. The stew still simmering gently in it’s pot over the fire and two cups of hot tea waiting on a nearby flat stone for them. It looked wonderfully cozy, as if she’d just wandered away moments ago and would return shortly... something which he seriously doubted.

They themselves had been laying on a bedroll, a warm blanket tucked around them similar to the two survivors who had the added bonus of a dragon acting as a guardian. Everything looked pretty much as he’d remembered it... as foggy as his exhaustion shrouded memories had been... except for the ship. It was gone, as was any indication of the damage it had caused.

“...the ship’s gone.” He found himself murmuring, the shock and the strangeness of the situation working wonders on killing his erection. “Why is the ship gone?”

“Why I don’t know Van.” Dilandau turned around with a snarl, his voice poisonously sweet even as his wings arched over his head aggressively. “I’m sure someone was wandering by and saw it cluttering up the landscape and decided to just up and remove the eyesore before it lowered properly value!” Well, it was good to see that someone was back in fine form.

“You!” The dragonslayer pointed accusingly at the dragon who actually lowered it’s head submissively, as if realizing that it was in trouble for some reason. “You are a shitty ass guard dog! How could you just sit there and let someone steal the damn ship!?” Unsurprisingly, the dragon had little to say in his own defence and Van rolled his eyes as Dilandau stomped over and kicked the beast in the rump, likely hurting his foot in the process and doing little to bother Kamata who continued to stare at him blankly. Figuring that he should likely step in and break things up before it actually became a real fight, Van slowly stood up, wobbling slightly as he realized that one of his wings was numb from having laid on it all night. The poor thing just hung there, dragging on the ground and flopping pathetically when he tried to raise it.

Well... that was rather undignified.... He’d never had his wings out for so long before for it to even become a concern on whether or not he could injure them or cut off circulation. Well, now he knew.

With a soft grunt, he banished the wings, having to quickly shift his weight to keep from falling over as the drag from the limp wing suddenly vanished.

“Dilandau, calm down.” The king stated as he walked over to the volatile duo and calmly ran his fingers through the other teens wings. The reaction was almost instant. The angry set of the wings relaxed and the dragonslayer leaned into the touch. Whatever blistering insult he’d been about to utter dissolved into a soft pleased murmur causing Van to admit that it made him feel rather powerful to have reduced the fierce warrior to pudding in less than a second. “Momma probably took it for whatever reason and honestly, I’m glad. Think about it. If Basram doesn’t see the ship, they can’t pinpoint our location. She did us a huge favour.

“I know...” Dilandau mumbled, somewhat reluctant to fully release his anger. “I just don’t like surprises... especially now... and the bitch didn’t answer our questions.”

“Maybe she’ll be back?” Van knew as soon as he said the words that they were as stupid as they sounded and the look Dilandau shot over his shoulder certainly made that clear but he was saved from any scathing commentary by the fact that he was still diligently running his fingers through those sensitive feathers. “I’m sure she’ll be back.” He continued, enjoying the silken brush of the feathers against his skin and gently massaged the warm skin beneath, earning himself a soft moan of pleasure. It was good to note that so long as the source of Dilandau’s ire was out of sight, he seemed to have trouble holding onto his anger.

“When she does, I’m kicking her ass. The old bitch called me an abomination.” The dragonslayer grumbled sulkily. “I’m not a freak.”

“I know that and you know that. Who care’s what anyone else thinks.” Breaking off the massage, Van gently tugged on the wing, leading them both to the fire and breakfast. “Let’s eat and start moving. We need to work out where we’re going to head next.”

“Astoria of course.” There was very little room for disagreement in Dilandau’s voice and Van knew that the albino was expecting him to simply fall in line the way his team always had, accepting his word as holy writ and not daring to argue. Boy was he in for a surprise. Van wasn’t some mindless follower. He was a king, a leader in his own right, and right now, he had his own ideas of how they should proceed. Of course, he knew enough about the captain to know that simply arguing with him outright was only going to make the other boy dig his heels in. Granted, diplomacy had never been his strong suit.

Taking a deep bracing breath, Van decided to just dive right into the battle.

“How? Our only source of transportation is a wild dragon and the rains are about to set in soon. Astoria is how many thousands of miles away? Nearly an entire continent at least, not to mention we’ll have to cross the entirety of Basram.” He kept himself sounding more curious than combative as he dished out the food, savouring the rich smells and hearing his stomach rumble loudly in anticipation. The sound made Kamata look over at him curiously, one of his ears flicking in their direction, trying to find where the other dragon might be.

At least Dilandau seemed to think about his questions rather than becoming immediately belligerent. He took the bowl from Van and nibbled on some broth soaked vegetables thoughtfully.

“We could hire a boat. Sail up the Nostramos into Godshead Bay. From there we could hire a ship to take us straight up to Astoria. It would take a few weeks...” He didn’t sound overly confident with this plan and Van could see why almost immediately. They had no money to hire a ship, meaning they’d have to trade hard labour... which would pay for their passage, but not for the two survivors. Also, no ships captain in their right mind, or wrong one for that matter would allow Kamata on board. A dragon on a wooden vessel was beyond suicidal, even if they explained that this one couldn’t breathe fire yet.

Also, it put them in close proximity to people who would very quickly realize who they were. While Van might survive the recognition, Dilandau certainly wouldn’t, and it would be all too easy to hold a lynching while surrounded by hundreds of miles of water. Not to mention Godshead harbour was in Fried, very close to Godashim... not a place that would welcome Dilandau at the best of times.

“That gives us very little room to run if Basram shows up. Most of that trip keeps us easily within their reach seeing as we’d be travelling the length of their borders.” Van said instead, trusting the captain to have already examined all of those other problems, hence his less than enthusiastic suggestion.

“Yeah.” Dilandau admitted after a moment of thoughtful chewing. “We could get away easily enough by flying, but they’d be screwed.” He glanced over at the two still bodies and attentive dragon, who seemed to perk up now that their attention was on him, giving a soft thrilling hiss. Smiling slightly, Dilandau picked a chunk of meat out of his stew and tossed it towards Kamata who snapped it neatly out of the air, not even bothering to chew the tender morsel. Naturally, almost immediately, the greedy beast had his mouth open widely, shamelessly begging for more.

“Aaand we’re going to have to figure out how to feed your pet.” Van added with a slight smile as he watched Dilandau toss him another chunk of meat. “Before you even suggest it, we’re NOT going to let him eat random people. If he starts thinking of humans as food he’ll become dangerous... more dangerous than dragon’s usually are.”

“Bah, would you rather us leave behind a trail of corpses? Him eating annoying people kills two birds with one shot.” Clearly they weren’t on the same page here, though really Van couldn’t say that he was honestly surprised. While the dragonslayer had displayed a frankly surprising level of protectiveness towards Van, the survivors and of course, the damn dragon, he seemed to still have little regard for any other human life.

“Look at it this way,” Van decided to try a different angle. “King Aston will never agree to let you keep a man eating dragon.”

“Then I’ll have to try my luck with Heir Dryden.”

“You’d have to wait for.... you are NOT feeding King Aston to the damn dragon!” Van snapped, suddenly following the albino’s train of thought.

“Hmph, killjoy.” The dragonslayer huffed in amusement, finishing the last of his stew, ignoring the plaintive hisses from Kamata as the beast slunk over towards them, dragging it’s belly across the ground as it shamelessly grovelled for more food. Unable to resist such a blatant pathetic display, Van tossed a chunk of his own meat towards it and watched as those lethal jaws snapped shut around it.

“So if land, sea and air is a bust, what do you suggest?” Crimson eyes glanced over at Van. There was a certain guarded quality to the gaze, warning that Dilandau likely was fully aware of what Van was about to suggest.

“Fanelia.” There was no surprise to his announcement, just a slight tightening of Dilandau’s lips and a soft _Hmph_.

“Fanelia... which is even father away than Astoria.” Dilandau kept his voice level and calm, but Van noted the distinct edge to it. “Meaning we’d have to cross through Freid, not to mention travelling through part of the Wasting, then the Jungles of Fanelia which happen to be rather impressively dragon infested. Then there’s that little issue of the reception I’d receive upon arrival. I’m sure they’ve forgiven me for that little surprise barbecue. I mean who doesn’t love a surprise barbecue?”

“You really are an asshole aren’t you.”

“It’s a gift and would be a shame not to use it.”

“Look, once we get to Fanelia, I can protect you. Gods of Gaea, I could even give you an official pardon for your crimes against our country if that’s what you want. You’ve helped save my life enough times to have earned it.” He was trying to be generous, to smooth out the tumultuous history between them, but Dilandau simply smiled and stood up, heading towards a small nearby creek to wash his bowl clean.

“I doubt your people would agree with you on that.”

“Astoria pardoned you.”

“Astoria still has buildings left standing.” Dilandau smiled slightly, not looking overly repentant over his past actions. Not that Van truly expected him to be. While their shared experiences might have humanized the dragonslayer captain, that didn’t mean that he’d changed his base nature over the past colour. Oddly enough, even with that realization, Van couldn’t bring himself to hate the albino.

“I’m just being practical.” Dilandau stated. “Pass me your bowl if you’re done.” It was tossed to him and neatly caught without missing a beat. “You’re asking me to go waltzing into a country where the populace will happily tear me apart and pass my remains down through the generations as a reminder of what happens to their enemies.”

“It’s either that or walk through a country who will happily tear you apart and put you in little jars to be studied for generations to come.” Van returned neatly and experienced some small amount of satisfaction in seeing the dragonslayer stiffen at his words.

“Your point is noted.” A smile grew on the king’s face as he realized that he seemed to have won the battle. “That was a low blow by the way.” Dilandau glanced at him over his shoulder, wings dipping for a moment as he washed the second bowl. “I might make a proper warrior out of you yet.” It likely wasn’t a good thing that he actually felt not only honestly complimented by the words, but that they gave him a warm rush deep down in his belly. From what he’d seen, compliments from Dilandau were as rare as hen’s teeth.

“How strong are you feeling today Van? Be honest.” The albino returned to camp and picked up the now empty stewpot, carting that to the creek without complaint, making it clear that they were going to be breaking camp shortly. Realizing that he should be helping out, Van began putting the bedrolls together as well as the blankets, adding the bowls to their little box of odds and ends.

“Not full strength yet.” The king saw little need to lie, the truth would be obvious enough once they started moving and honestly, he was pretty sure that Dilandau was still exhausted as well but would rather die than admit it. One of them had to be the sensible one, and it might as well be him.

“Alright, we’ll keep it at a reasonable pace then.” Van had to repress a slight shudder at what the dragonslayer would consider to be a reasonable pace. This was after all the guy who thought it perfectly fine to sprint around the Royal Gardens at Palas as a warmup.

“Can’t wait.” Yeah, he couldn’t even fake the sincerity. Instead, the two of them loaded the bodies up on top of Kamata’s back and Van noted that the leathery skin around them was starting to flake off in places. “That’s a good sign right?”

Pausing in his actions, Dilandau glanced over, poking at the flaking substance with a fingertip. A chunk of skin came loose, falling to the ground and crumbling. Beneath it looked to be healthy human skin with a faint slimy sheen to it. The smell however was less than pleasant and it stunk of ammonia and unwashed flesh, causing both teens to wrinkle their noses and take a step back.

“I hope so.... You realize that once this crap comes off, we’re going to have to wash them or end up smelling this stink on everything.”

“You’re going to have to wash the dragon too... it’s oozing down his side.” Van motioned towards the poor beast who didn’t look at all impressed with the unexpectedly disgusting burden. In fact, the dragon looked downright pathetic, not liking the stink anymore than they did.

“Yeah.... great.” At least Dilandau wasn’t outright refusing to do this. “Suck it up Kamata, I know they stink, you can make their lives hell for it once they wake up. Until then, lets get moving.”

 

Travelling through a jungle with a dragon was certainly an interesting and noisy experience. While both Van and Dilandau took pains to move as quietly as possible, Kamata seemed to take it as a personal challenge to knock over as many trees as he could with every step and was determined to sniff at every large stone or stump they came across. Sure, there was the benefit of knowing that no large predators were going to be stupid enough to go anywhere near them, but it also meant that no prey animals would either. The closet thing they’d seen resembling meat had been a rather unfortunate snake which had been resting on a tree branch and was snapped up by greedy jaws before it could slither off to safety. Naturally, the dragon didn’t share.

Out of some strange stubborn pride, Dilandau seemed to be determined to keep his wings out rather than being sensible and letting them fade away. The great shining limbs were tucked as tightly against his body as they could be to prevent them from snagging on any stray branches, flaring occasionally as they climbed over fallen logs or rocky outcrops.

“You should really send them away.” Van murmured as he watched Dilandau snag the wings on yet another branch, tugging a few shining feathers loose. The king bent down and collected the lost plumes, not wanting to leave a trail behind them and did his best to ignore the stubborn glare the albino shot him.

“No. They’re a part of me and part of who I am now. I’m not hiding them just because they might be inconvenient.” Sure, on one level, Van could respect that, on the other, he knew that Dilandau was just being a stubborn ass again and really, they simply weren’t practical in this environment. Naturally, bringing this up was only going to have the opposite effect, so Van kept this mouth shut, waiting for the dragonslayer to get sick of picking brambles out of his feathers. At least the pale teen wasn’t complaining.

Foraging what they could as they walked, the two gathered up edible plants when they were spotted, a few medicinal ones also found their way into the medicine bag hanging from Van’s shoulder. The shock staff ended up being put to use as a pry bar more often than not, helping them lift up larger rocks to snag grubs and small lizards hidden in the soft earth beneath. Some were tossed into the bottomless pit of a dragon and were snapped up so quickly Van was positive the creature had no idea what he was even eating, the rest were nibbled on by the teens.

Van had eaten grubs before... once... as a dare between himself and Merle. He fondly remembered her wide blue eyes staring at him in horrified fascination as he’d popped the fat squirming larvae into his mouth and bit down, releasing the slimy innards and swallowing them before he could taste them. It had been disgusting and not an experience he’d ever wanted to repeat... yet here he was.

“They taste better when roasted.” Dilandau murmured as he bit one neatly in half, seemingly not overly bothered by the disgusting texture. Van made a mental note to avoid zaibach cuisine for the foreseeable future. Still, protein was protein and his body was desperate for it.

What they didn’t eat immediately were stored in knotted pockets they made in Dilandau’s shirt, seeing as how Van’s had become somewhat destroyed. This left their hands free for more hunting, gathering, or simply just plain defence should they need it. The bulging misshapen pockets looked ridiculous and awkward, but Van didn’t bother making a comment about it, knowing that if he did, he likely wouldn’t get anymore of the food being stored within.

They’d been travelling steadily southwest for nearly an hour, hoping to make the banks of the Nostramos sea by nightfall, allowing Van a clear view of the Mystic Moon. They’d apparently slept through the previous night, missing it completely, which Van found to be more than a little embarrassing, but Dilandau made no effort to mock him. they’d both desperately needed the rest.

When Kamata froze and gave a low growl, both teens immediately dropped into half crouches, more than half expecting the jungle to come alive with legions of Basram troops. Taking a moment to center himself, Van opened his senses to the world around him, picturing the pendulum in his mind and focusing on what possible dangers might be nearby. In his minds eye, the shining stone simply wove back and forth with even motions, leaning in no particular direction nor revealing anything hidden nearby. He did feel a tug just off to the right a little ways... it didn’t feel dangerous though... quite the opposite.

“Nothing.” The king murmured softly when those curious crimson eyes found his. “But I sense something over there we might want to look into.” He motioned with his hand towards where he’d felt the slight pull and Dilandau nodded before turning to the dragon.

“Kamata. Stay here. We’ll be back.” The dragon huffed in disinterest and began poking his nose at a large stone, trying to pry it up for more grubs. “Good boy.”

“Why do you insist on pretending that he understands you?” Van couldn’t help but grumble as he took the lead, stepping into the thick brush carefully, hoping that the dragon didn’t decide to nibble on the two survivors while they were away.

“The words don’t matter.” Dilandau replied, tucking his wings tightly against himself, still refusing to hide them despite how awkward and dangerous it would make whatever reception they had waiting for them. “What matters is that he knows I’ll kick his ass if he pisses me off.” Though he opened his mouth to argue the horrible hole in that logic, he ended up just sighing softly and remaining silent. There was no point in wasting words trying to get through something the dragonslayer had convinced himself of, and really, they couldn’t afford an argument at this moment.

It wasn’t long after that they heard singing off all things. It was a beautiful haunting melody that seemed to drift through the trees as if it actually belonged. The two youths exchanged looks with each other and crept forward carefully and the closer they drew, the more easily they could make out the words.

The song wasn’t one Van was familiar with, but he knew the language... it was a wolf-clan, likely one of the nomadic tribes that frequented in the area.

Grinning widely in a way that Van simply didn’t trust, Dilandau began slipping closer to the troupe, leaving the king to reach out and tug at his wingtip.

“What are you doing?!” He whispered as softly as he could. Here he’d been thinking that they should stay away from people at all costs seeing as how one of them was pretty much Gaea’s biggest mass murderer. Silly him!

“Trust me.” Yeah, famous last words. Oh how he wanted to argue, to flat out state that he damn well didn’t trust the half mad teenager in the least when it came to social interactions. But it was too late. Dilandau had already tugged his wing free and slipped off, leaving Van to follow.

A few short and rather tense minutes later found them staring down a gentle hill at a small wolf clan taking a midday rest for lunch, which seemed to consist of mostly dried meat and fruit beaten into a jerky.

Unlike the tribes Van was familiar with back in Fanelia, this one didn’t seem to have any draft animals to pull their carts. Instead, they carried their wares on their backs and on travois which they each dragged behind them. Even the cubs carried the simple laden frames. Their clothing was pactical enough and light for the weather, consisting of simple kilts for men and women with no real differentiation between the genders. Their chests were bare save for the odd bit of jewellery which leaned heavily towards painted beads, bits of glass and assorted fangs from predators. The cubs either wore simple shifts, or just beautifully tooled lather belts from which various toys and tools hung.

All of the adults were armed with a knife, a shot sword and several of the males had clubs as well. There was no doubt that everyone was quite confident in their use. Which made it seem that much more shocking when Dilandau broke cover and openly strolled up to them as casual as could be, his large shining wings looking like a damned beacon, especially when he gave them a little snap, ensuring that everyone’s attention was assuredly fixed on him.

Exuding his usual trademark confidence and swagger, the dragonslayer walked straight up to the largest male of the group, a rather imposing looking figure covered in old scars and missing part of an ear. He wore several necklaces decorated with impressive fangs around his neck and the weapons at his belt were well notched from battle.

Stopping in front of the rather stunned male, Dilandau grinned up at him, displaying his teeth in open challenge and growled out a series of rather threatening sounding snarls that Van truly hoped he had heard wrong.

“Oh sweet gods of Gaea...” The king murmured softly. “Tell me that he didn’t just threaten to slaughter the camp and steal the women if their leader didn’t give them part of their food.” He had no idea who he was talking to, seeing as how the gods seemed intent on ignoring them. Honestly, he was going to murder the albino moron! Who in the name of sanity just blatantly walked up to people and made such demands!

The leader looked just as shocked as Van and behind him, the clan all rose to their feet, several of the adults preparing to draw their weapons while others made motions to push the cubs to safety. Through it all, Dilandau and the tribe leader never broke eye contact, it was a test of wills and Van truly prayed that the beast man didn’t realize just how exhausted the foolish teenager was.

“Cub, you’re either sick or stupid to speak like that to me.” The leader finally growled softly, his words rumbling deep in his throat, the threat obvious for anyone with ears or eyes. “Who are you to make such demands as if you were one of our own?”

“Nakahi of the Iron Fangs.” Dilandau growled back, still refusing to back down, even when the huge beast man stepped up to him and drew in a deep breath, scenting the air around them.

“Iron Fangs huh? Bangazi’s bunch of maniacs?” He didn’t sound impressed at all and neither did his clan. “You certainly speak like an Iron Fang, making demands and threats when a simple request would be honoured.” Jowls pulled back to reveal a rather impressive set of sharp white fangs which stood out against dark gums. “You couldn’t take down one of our cubs in a challenge. Sit, join our lunch and we’ll see just what we should make of you and your friend who lurks in the bushes.” The leader turned away, dismissing Dilandau as a non threat, though he did cast a significant look in Van’s direction.

Realizing that there was no point in hiding, the king grumbled softly and stepped forward, holding his hands open and at his side, meeting the leader’s eyes only long enough to be appropriate for a display of equality.

“Greetings. I Van.” He was hesitant to give his full title seeing as how they were still deep in enemy territory and had no clue if these people would prove to be allies or not. “Many thanks.”

The leader glanced over at him, those amber eyes of his studying the king with a weighted look.

“You speak our language, but you’re not Iron Fang.” He stated, curiosity colouring his tone. “I’m sure there is quite a story behind why two of the cursed ones are travelling through our territory, and why you would travel with one of the Mad Tribe.”

“Yes... much story.” Van admitted, glancing back in the direction they’d come, wondering if they should get the others or continue to test the waters a little more. Much to his chagrin, Dilandau had accepted the invitation happily and walked over to the clan who were sharing their food. With a look of utter ambivalence, the dragonslayer unknotted his makeshift pockets and handed over the grubs and little lizards they’d gathered as well as a few berries.

“Your food looks better. I’ll take some of it.” Of all the rude obnoxious things to say! Was he _trying_ to make enemies out of these people?

More surprisingly, the clan seemed to not be insulted by his words, in fact, they almost seemed to be politely humouring him, trading some of their jerky for the grubs without argument, though Van did notice that it was pretty much an equal amount of food being exchanged.

“He is very much an Iron Fang.” The leader spoke softly, sounding more amused than upset over the newcomer’s demands.

“So sorry!” Van sputtered, still shocked and aghast at the display. “Not meaning to rude!”

“There is no need for apology.” The leader stated. “If he acted any differently, I’d know he was lying.” Those powerful jaws parted slightly, the teeth politely covered and Van knew that the beast man was smiling. “Iron Fangs aren’t called the Mad One’s for no reason. They’re rude, aggressive and violent but still observe the laws of hospitality within the clans.” He motioned towards the exchange that had just taken place. “He cannot ask for food, that would indicate weakness and inability to hunt, so instead, he’ll demand the food he wants, giving us his ‘scraps’. However it is still a fair trade.”

“Not feel right.” He protested, still feeling as if they’d overstepped their bounds. This time the leader chuckled softly.

“Perhaps not, but it is their way. We honour the ways of each clan when we can, so long as they honour ours. Now come and join us. Two more mouths to feed is a small enough burden when it is two young hunters with interesting tales. Besides, you clearly need the food. There is a stink of sickness and foul things about you.” The words didn’t seem to be intended as an insult and honestly, Van could just imagine what he smelled like after the experiments, crawling through those nightmare hallways then traipsing across the jungle like a pair of idiots.

“Yes, can hunt, will hunt. Share kills... but... not alone. Are more.” That caught the leader’s attention and his ears perked up slightly.

“Two more... and... and dragon.” Well, that certainly got the beast man’s attention, as well as several of the clan who’d been casually listening in without being too obvious about it. Several gave exclamations of shock and again, the children were quickly gathered and placed into the center of the group.

“I had smelled one of the great beasts on you... but they are rare in these lands...”

“Travel with one. Ally.” Oh he really hoped that was true.

“Yes, we travel with a dragon.” Dilandau walked up to the two of them, giving Van a bit of a dark look for sharing their secret without his permission. He unceremoniously shoved some of the newly traded jerky into Van’s hands. “The dragon is part of our pack, as are two others who are sick. They’re not contagious.” He added quickly, fully aware of how dangerous sickness could be to a travelling tribe. “We are willing to share our hunts with your clan and the dragon will keep predators away while we rest. He offers no threat to your people, but if you do not wish the aid of two strong hunters, we will continue on alone.” His crimson eyes met and held the amber of the leader in level challenge, daring the wolf man to refuse them.

He honestly seemed to be weighing the pro’s and con’s to this arrangement and eventually called over a female beastkin to stand at his side.

“This is Haree, my mate. I am Rushah. We lead the Red Paw’s and protect our people from harm. Partnership with your pack is a two edged blade, it offers great gain and danger in equal measure.” The female, a rather impressive specimen of her race stared at them openly with undisguised curiosity and Dilandau knew that she desperately wanted to study his wings. Noticing the scrutiny, the dragonslayer folded the great limbs a little more tightly against his back, not out of any discomfort, but to heighten her curiosity, ready to use any tool he could to push his agenda.

“You say you travel with one of the great beasts?” She asked them, her gaze darting from one youth to the other, unsure as to which of them was in charge.

“Yes, Kamata. Our lives are intertwined and he is our brother.” Dilandau replied confidently, causing the two mates to glance at each other for a moment.

“And it would pose no threat to the clan?” Her concern was perfectly reasonable seeing as how there were children here, some likely her own. Van certainly wouldn’t be too quick to expose them to such an extreme risk.

“Dragon never see Wolf clan before.” Van stated before Dilandau would offer blanket assurances. “We bring him near, see clan. If not violence, we stay?” It was annoying having to stumble through the language while everyone around him spoke it fluently. Sounding like a child made him feel as if he was less able than the others, something Dilandau might be quick to exploit if he wasn’t careful.

“ _If_ he grows aggressive?” Rushah didn’t seem overly encourage by that phrasing and Haree growled softly in concern.

“Dragons respond to aggression, fear and other negative emotions. If your clan is calm, then he will be as well.” The dragonslayer explained smoothly, radiating a level of confidence which practically screamed that there wouldn’t be a problem. Thankfully, neither of the wolf clan leaders fell for it, proving that they were much smarter than most humans.

“Only a fool fails to fear a dragon.”

“I do not fear the dragon.” The albino stated, his voice dropping slightly, suddenly becoming very cold and dangerous, radiating all the potential violence that seethed within his soul. “The dragon fears me.” It likely helped his claim that his eyes seemed to glitter with that strange energist light and he spread his wings, each feather seeming to radiate that strange beautiful glow in the half light beneath the canopy.

Both wolf clan leaders crouched slightly, wary of an attack and Van noticed that they had the full attention of the entire clan. What their leaders chose would decide their reception and Van prepared himself for the worst.

“You bring the dragon here.” Rushah stated after a long moment of tense silence, holding Dilandau’s stare, respect radiating from the beast man, and no small amount of awe. “If he is your pack, then his actions reflect on you. If no danger is offered, then you will be welcome within our ranks. If not, our paths part here, never to cross again. Iron Fang or not, I will not see my clan in danger.”

“Understand.” Van stated, speaking for Dilandau and making it clear that the albino was NOT in charge of their pack despite the grandstanding. “We get dragon, see how reacts. Tell people not fear. Will not hurt.” Both beastkin glanced at him, their ears giving a slight skeptical twitch as if to say that not fearing a dragon was pretty much impossible, though thankfully, they both nodded their heads.

“I’ll get him.” Dilandau glanced over at Van. “You stay here and help keep everyone calm. If anyone starts to get too worked up and you feel danger, let me know and I’ll lead Kamata away.” It was good to see that the dragonslayer actually seemed to be serious in his statement of not wanting to put the wolf clan in danger. Despite not being one of them physically, he really did seem to be intent on following clan etiquette, no matter how twisted it might be for his particular tribe.

Nodding his head, the king watched Dilandau vanish into the forest before turning back to the two beastkin at his side.

“Sorry for the...” He mimed the wing spreading. “Like to show off.” A faint smile tugged at his lips and the two wolves nodded their heads, Haree actually looking somewhat amused.

“One always wishes to look strong in front of their mate.” She murmured, giving Rushah a sidelong glance. “It’s good that he seeks your approval.”

Habit almost made him deny the statement, but then Van remembered the kisses, and the pure pleasure of waking up with their limbs entangled. Would it really be so bad? These people didn’t seem to mind the two of them being together and really, this might be the only time they were going to actually be able to be together without the threat of persecution. Sure, Fanelia wasn’t nearly so closed minded as so many of their neighbours, but Van was their king, and expected to create an heir to the crown... and Dilandau was death personified. Chances of their union being blessed by his people were pretty much null and void.

“He strong warrior.” Van admitted, fully aware that he was once again blushing furiously. “Both hurt badly, need rest, food... become strong again.”

“The men of this land took you didn’t they.” Rushah asked softly, a hint of tender concern filling his eyes. “I can smell their foul machines on you both. The shadow of so much pain and suffering.” He growled softly though it wasn’t threatening, more of a sound of frustration. “They often try to prey on our tribes. Not just the Redpaw’s, but the Night Howlers, the Moon Dancers and even the Steel Claws.”

“The Steel Claws were taken three moons ago... All were taken but a single cub hidden away. We’ve never seen them again, but the cub travels with us.” Haree murmured, glancing over in the direction of the children who were still crowded together somewhat nervously, their eyes wide as they stared at the stranger in their midst.

Their nervousness would likely agitate the dragon, as would that of the adults watching them, their hands already clutching at their weapons in preparation of a fight. He was going to have to do something about this before Dilandau arrived with Kamata or things were going to get ugly.

“I talk to cubs?” Van asked them as politely as he could, aware that any parent would be nervous about strange creatures being near, and a draconian was certainly one of the stranger things they might encounter. “Make then not scared. Then dragon be happy. Clan be safe.”

Once again, the two leaders exchanged a look between each other before nodding and leading him towards the group. Making a point of approaching slowly, keeping his motions smooth and even, Van smiled at the cubs and assorted adults.

“I Van.” He stated, pressing his hand to his chest. “Draconian.” Several of the adults gaped in awe while the cubs leaned a little closer, their eyes growing even wider. “Like Nakahi.” He motioned to where Dilandau had vanished into the jungle. “We friends, come from far away. Travel with strange pack. Two hurt by bad humans. Humans who hunt the clans.” Several of the cubs whimpered softly, their ears flattening at the mention of those wicked humans who were likely the source of many nightmares. If nothing else, that statement alone earned them the respect of the nearby adults. “We escape and try to get home. Need your help. Red Paws very brave, meet our pack. Meet Kamata.”

“Do you really have a dragon?” One of the cubs, a young female who looked to be somewhat older than the others asked, leaning forward with awe written across her face. “And do you have wings like Nakahi?”

“Can we see your wings?”

“What does the dragon eat?”

“Can it breathe fire?”

“Are you going to steal us away in the night?” The questions came quickly with the guileless innocence of youth and Van couldn’t help but smile, even at some of the darker ones.

“Kamata is baby dragon. Cub, just like all of you. Bad men killed his mom and lock him away. He big and scary, but needs mommy and daddy. Nakahi and me. We his mommy and daddy. Keep his safe, feed him, keep him clean and not let be bad.”

“Do you growl at him when he’s bad? My mum growls....” One little cub asked, giving a nearby wolf woman a sly look, likely hoping to be able to get away with future mischief.

“Nakahi growls at him. Nakahi very fierce.” Van gave a mock growl and bared his teeth playfully. Several of the cubs nodded their heads, the image of those flaring wings and burning eyes having made a definite impression on their young minds. Likely many of the older minds as well. While it had been typical drama for Dilandau, it certainly drove home the impression that he could easily handle something as simple as a raging dragon. Van only hoped that he could back that grandiose statement. “Kamata scared too. He hurt by bad men and not understand why. Kamata just cub, no fire, no fly.” He wanted to press that point home. One thing he’s learned from the beast clans was that they were usually much more lenient with the young and would understand that aggression on the dragon’s part might not mean ill intent.

“Can you fly?” Another cub asked shyly. “Have you got wings too?” It was strange having people be interested in his wings and alien heritage rather than backing away in suspicion. They might call draconians “cursed one’s” but they certainly didn’t treat them as such.

“Yes, I have wings. Fly very high. You want to see?” There was a chorus of “yes” and several eager yips of excitement as the cubs practically squirmed in delight. He couldn’t quite resist grinning, his usual trepidation in showing them strangely absent as he flexed his back, feeling his wings burst out from his skin, showering the cubs and several adults with stray feathers. There were loud gasps of shock and many of the cubs piled over themselves grabbing at the feathers, clutching them like valuable prizes and Van knew that several of them would find their way onto necklaces in the future.

Lowering his wings, he invited the cubs to touch the soft feathers and was impressed at how careful they were with the sensitive plumes. It was nothing like when Dilandau ran those skilled fingers of his through the feathers, but the gentle tickling was pleasant, almost as nice as the grins and giggles he was receiving. This acceptance felt nice, like a warm blanket wrapped around him and it was something he’d never really felt before. These people didn’t know he was a king or a war hero. He was just Van, a draconian, and they wholly accepted him... well, they would if Kamata passed his test.

Speaking of... he could hear the crackle of the dragon moving towards the small camp, causing several of the wolf kin to look up. They were nervous, but nowhere near how worried they’d been only a few minutes ago. Van’s plan to accustom them to their little groups strangeness seemed to have worked surprisingly well. When Kamata’s head slipped through the jungle brush a few seconds later, with Dilandau firmly gripping the dragon’s ear, he was greeted with gasps of shock and awe rather than screams of terror.

The dragon paused for a moment, surprised by the number of people gathered nearby but the fact that they didn’t smell anything like the humans he’d previously known likely helped keep the beast at ease. Still, it was good to note that Dilandau wasn’t taking that for granted, and his stance was alert and ready for any hint of draconic aggression.

Smiling, Van walked over to him, noting the slight approving nod when the dragonslayer saw his extended wings, likely guessing the purpose behind them being out.

“Good to see that he’s cooperating.” The king murmured softly in Astorian, then he shocked the albino by nuzzling his cheek lightly, taking a deep breath of the familiar scent of his hair.

“Yeah...” Dilandau paused, taking a moment to lick his lips, more than a little off balance at the sudden display of open affection. In his surprise, his usual aversion to public displays of affection was forgotten and he took a moment enjoy the caress, favouring Van with a quick nuzzle of his own. Besides, he rationalized to himself. It’s not as if he was on duty... he could indulge a little right? He’d damn well earned a little break.

Besides, the zaibachi youth had figured that they were going to drift apart now that there were others to witness their actions and felt a warm tug low in his guts at the realization that the king was so openly throwing aside convention. Things might change down the road when they were among Van’s friends and allies, but for now, he didn’t seem to mind letting these people know about them and what they might have growing between them. The smile he shot Van made the king feel as if he’d just discovered an unexpected treasure and he couldn’t quite resist a little mental cheer.

“He’s still pretty well fed from those two morons in the ship and should be good for another day or so despite his begging. You did a good job calming everyone down on this end.” There was an obvious note of respect at Van’s accomplishment and the young king happily basked in it. “Glad to see that you’re not hiding your wings either.”

“Well, they can smell what I am.” Van replied with a slight shrug and depreciating smile. “Seems pointless to keep up the illusion.” Glancing down at the dragon who was still staring with attentive fascination at the wolf clan, Van wondered if it would be safe for some of them to approach. As if reading his thoughts, Dilandau smiled slightly.

“I think one at a time would be a good idea, let him get used to them slowly. I gave him a pretty good lecture about manners and eating my stuff, but... keep an eye on his tail just in case.”

“Yah... like I can stop that thing if he swings it.” Van grumbled softly though without rancour. Instead, he turned to look over at Rushah.

“Closer... slowly.” He grinned as a sudden idea occurred to him. “Bring jerky. Kamata always hungry.” If the dragon was like any other animal he’d ever seen, the quickest way to make peace with him was to provide food. Nodding his head, the wolf clan leader picked up a chunk of jerky and then cautiously approached the great beast.

Kamata stiffened slightly and gave a soft hiss which caused the wolf man to pause in his approach, but when the dragon caught wind of the meat, the growl abruptly stopped and those large eyes flickered over to Dilandau, as if asking his permission. It was both odd and adorable all at once and Van couldn’t resist giving the dragon an approving ear scratch.

“Come closer, it’s alright. He’s just nervous.” Dilandau assured the leader who took another cautious step. “Toss the meat, he’s not used to taking anything by hand yet.” The jerky was snapped up almost before it had left Rushah’s hand and quickly vanished down Kamata’s greedy gullet.

With that, the dragon seemed to deem the wolf clan man to be acceptable and the hisses stopped almost instantly, the dragon’s body relaxing as he leaned slightly against the pale slayer contentedly.

“I’ve never been so close to one of the great beasts.” Rushah murmured, his voice filled with awe. “We normally give them a very wide berth.”

“Likely a good idea.” Dilandau agreed, not bothering to mention that he’d always done the exact opposite. “Kamata is still very young and trusts us to keep him safe. So long as you’re calm, he should be fine. Did you want to touch him?” The wolf man’s eyes seemed to light up at the prospect and behind him, several members of the clan leaned forward in anticipation. This was a story that would be carried by their clan for generations to come. The time their leader touched a living dragon!

“Touch along his neck.” The dragonslayer advised, shifting so that Kamata could see every movement and turn his head accordingly. “A dragon’s face and underbelly are tender, they don’t like them being touched, but where their scales are darker, they’re too thick to be hurt. Your sword couldn’t cut him no matter how hard you tried and he knows it.” There was definite pride in the slayers voice, almost paternal sounding.

Both teens watched as the beast man cautiously leaned forward, his fingertips lightly brushing the side of Kamata’s neck while the dragon watched him with interest, trying to figure out what the “not human” was doing but feeling no threat in the action. When there was no retaliation to the light brushing touch, Rushah let his fingers linger for a moment, then boldly pressed his hand to the warm scales, thrilling at the feeling of touching a living breathing dragon. He looked the beast in the eyes and bowed his head in respect then turned to look at the two teens.

“Thank you for this. Never in the history of our clan has anyone had such an honour. May the others come forward and share in this? If they each bring meat for the great beast, will it be acceptable?”

Van had to chuckle at this and flashed the noble leader a smile.

“Kamata loves food. Much food mean happy dragon.”

“Just only approach if they’re comfortable doing so.” Dilandau cautioned. “If they’re unsure it’s best they stay away. Kamata is still after all a dragon and will respond to the emotions. But food will definitely help.”

Haree was the next to approach and like her mate, she bowed her head in reverence to the power of the dragon, thanking him for allowing her to experience something previously unheard of. Then, in a surprising show of trust, she beckoned one of the cubs closer. It was the older female who eagerly grabbed a chunk of meat and then made a show of slowly approaching the dragon. When she was five feet away from those lethal jaws, she tossed the meat high in the air and giggled as Kamata lurched up to snatch it neatly with his maw.

The cub then approached the beast and her mother took her hand and gently placed it on the dragons powerful foreleg, letting her feel the lethal muscles flex beneath the scales.

“He’s so warm!” The cub yipped softly in delight. “But lizards are cold!”

“He’s a dragon, not a lizard.” Dilandau corrected her primly, clearly not overly comfortable being around children of any sort. “His blood is very hot, but when he’s older, his fire will be even hotter. He will be a great warrior.” The cub nodded her head then looked down at the leg beneath her hand, only now noticing the sliced patagium.

“He’s hurt!” She softly exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention to the myriad of scars decorating the olive green scales of the beast.

“Yes... the bad humans did this.” The albino said, his voice soft. “They hurt us too. When we escaped, we brought him with us so they couldn’t hurt him again.” Van noticed the clans eyes drift from the dragon to themselves, likely noting the fresh scars dotting Van’s torso and how they were obviously not gained from battle or mishap. They were the same as the dragon’s scars. Several voices whined softly in sympathy, likely thinking of the lost beast kin... more than likely the poor wretches he’d seen on his initial walk through the holding pens.

To his surprise, the little cub walked over to him and then hugged his leg tightly, rubbing her cheek against him the way she would with a tribe mate who’d been hurt. It was a deeply touching gesture and Van actually felt a lump welling up in this throat. At his side, Dilandau raised a brow, looking honestly surprised at the familial gesture, though he said nothing.

Both Haree and Rushah appeared to be proud of their cubs actions and as they stepped back, another clan member picked up some meat and approached.

It took nearly twenty minutes for everyone who wanted to meet Kamata do so so. Naturally, there were a few holdouts, though they didn’t show the dragon any hostility, they simply made it clear that they weren’t comfortable in its proximity. Neither teen could argue that and were in fact honestly glad that they’d kept their distance rather than force themselves closer and Van even went so far as to thank them for their consideration. He didn’t want any hard feelings with the small tribe.

Once the introductions were over... and the clan’s store of jerky significantly diminished, Kamata looked quite relaxed with the situation. He grumbled happily as he lay down in the small clearing, giving both Haree and Rushah a chance to look at the two bodies on his back. The two clan members wrinkled their noses slightly at the stink of the decaying leather sacs and quickly fetched a wizened old male from where he sat on a rock, resting his feet. The old wolf’s fur was greying and patchy around his eyes and ears though there was still an air of dignity about him. His amber eyes were clear and bright, shining with quick wit and intelligence. While his clothing was as simple and utilitarian as the others, he wore several belts and bandoleers, each one heavy with numerous pouches, some bearing rather strong smelling contents.

The old wolf man shuffled over, giving the dragon a cautionary glance to ensure that he was comfortable with the approach seeing as how this time, the man didn’t come bearing food.

“This is Mora.” Rushah introduced the newcomer. “He’s our healer and a well respected elder among the clans. May he could look at your friends? He has seen many illnesses and injuries and might be able to aid them.” Seeing as how neither teen had arguments preventing such a thing, they both stepped away, though Dilandau remained close to Kamata’s head, just in case he grew irritable.

“It can’t hurt.” Dilandau shrugged. “They’re in pupal sacks right now, but they’re just about dried out. We’re just not sure when they’ll wake up. This is sort of new to us.”

The old healer studied the dried out leather, poking it carefully and noting the slimy skin beneath critically.

“Well, this is certainly unique... how long has the sac been breaking apart?” Once again, the two youths could really only shrug. They’d been a little busy at the time of the escape so had no idea if the process had already been ongoing at the time.

“Not sure.” Van finally admitted. “Noticed this morning.” It felt bad to say that, but really, what else could they have done? They’d barely been able to keep their own eyes open at the time. Humming softly under his breath, the healer nodded his head thoughtfully.

“We should take the sacs off, I don’t imagine they’re doing them any good now that they’re breaking apart, but I would suggest we wait until we reach our evening camp. There will be a river nearby where we will be able to clean their bodies properly.” That sounded like sage advice and Van agreed softly with he elder even as he gave Kamata a comforting pat on the shoulder, quietly praising him for being so cooperative. “Other than that, they seem healthy enough. Do you know what was done to them? Or... is it normal for draconians to be in sacs?”

“Er... we not know...” Neither teen enjoyed their ignorance, but lying seemed to serve no purpose. “Not leave there. Not with bad men.”

“I’ll gather some herbs on our travels which should help invigorate them.” Mora stated, giving his head a sharp nod. “When we stop to rest once more, We’ll clean them properly and let them rest on a bed rather than dragonback.”

 

Their rest stop came none too soon as far as Van was concerned. They’d walked for several hours through the jungle, following some obscure path that the clan knew of and travelled regularly. Of course, the path grew significantly wider once Kamata passed by, but no one complained. His very presence allowed the forward scouts to relax and focus on hunting slow moving prey rather than worry about predators and by the time they found themselves on the flat banks of a decently flowing river, they’d almost fully replaced the stores that Kamata had eaten.

Several of the clan began to set up various tents for the night while others fanned out to hunt for larger and more substantial prey. A fire was started and a large skin pot filled with water was hung over the flames to boil as a trio of clan members chopped up roots and tubers they had gathered during the walk, tossing the neat cubes into it to create the base for a communal stew.

Van, Dilandau and Mora carefully led Kamata to the riverbank, taking some amusement out of the sheer bafflement on the dragon’s face as he beheld moving water for possibly the first time in his life. The great beast approached it with almost exaggerated caution, sniffing and snorting like an oversized pig before twisting away, hissing at the strange liquid. His uncooperativeness was rather comical for the first five minutes, then it simply became annoying.

Amusingly, it was Dilandau who’s temper broke first and he walked over to the stew pot, snagged a small rabbit that was about to be butchered and then walked back to the reticent dragon, dangling the bloody meat in front of it’s nose.

“Get in the damn water and you can eat it. Keep balking and I’ll beat you into a coma.” He growled in utter irritation. Having eyes only for the food, the dragon allowed himself to be led into the shallows where he happily munched on the tidbit while they carefully slid the bodies off of his back.

The skin sacs seemed to almost disintegrate in the water making removing them a non issue, something which Van was immensely grateful for, but Mora produced a thick creamy gel from one of his many pouches and announced that they were going to wash the two bodies with it to remove any toxins which might have gathered on their skins from the slimy liquid and their time in captivity. A few handfuls were also spared for Kamata, seeing as how his back had been liberally stained with the slime as well. Dilandau had the honour of bathing the dragon while the other two handled the bodies.

With the disgusting sacs gone, Van finally got his first clear view of the survivors and could barely restrain his shock as he recognized the features of that young boy who he’d seen his first day in the lab. Somewhat younger than them, his slender body had changed slightly from the twisted experiments which had bound him to the life of that young girl he’d entered the pod with. More slender of build than before and perhaps a little longer of limb, the biggest changes seemed to be his colouration.

Once tawny brown skin was now several shades darker giving him a rich golden brown that was a few shades lighter than the deep chocolate tones of the egzardian girl he’d been bonded with. All of his body hair was a vibrant flame orange, with highlights ranging from bright yellow to an almost rich red. It gave the impression that the boy’s head was on fire and Van knew that it would be quite eye catching when dried. Lashes, brows and pubic hair were all the same reddish orange and the king couldn’t help but remember that flame coloured flower Dilandau had created in the garden of their dreams. He’d saved the child for Van, he knew that now. After all the Fanelian lives he’d so gleefully claimed, he’d gone out of his way to save this one precious life simply for the king, to grant him a small sliver of peace of mind.

Van couldn’t help but turn around and favour the dragonslayer with a brilliant heart melting smile. No one had ever done something so thoughtful for him, not on this level at least. It was miraculous, touching and had likely cost the albino a great deal in terms of energy, not to mention the risk involved. Van knew how much Dilandau loathed the idea of there being any more children twisted as he’d been, but he’d taken that risk for Van, to save something for him. This boy had Van’s blood running through his veins now and had been born of Dilandau’s energies. He was a part of each of them. Kin. As Van looked down at that fragile body in his arms, he felt a little less alone. His family had grown despite the odds.

A soft gasp from Mora alerted him to the state of the other member of their little pack and Van dimly remembered Shroden stating that the other survivor hadn’t been well formed. The sorcerous freak had gloated about experimenting on them further before taking it apart and study the remains... he could now see what the foul monster had meant.

The second survivor was female, her skin the warm tawny shade of a native Basrami and her hair was a gorgeous blueish black. Like the fanelian boy, her body was slender and finely built, though somewhat boyish in shape with wide strong shoulders. Her breasts were almost nonexistent and her hips were narrower than normal but that’s not what had caused the old wolf to whine softly in sympathy. Her face was twisted.

Whatever the mystical experiments had been conducted on her, they’d twisted her so badly that she could no longer be mistaken for human no matter how generous the viewer. The skin on her face was smooth for the most part, save for a slight odd pebbling on her right cheek which created a rough area reaching into her hairline. It thickened her skin, making it more of leathery mask and Van knew that it would likely prevent any facial expressions from taking place. To be a young girl and made so hideous was cruel enough, but to take it to such an extent... calling her deformed would be far too generous a description and it broke Van’s heart to imagine the pain she must have endured during the blending.

The bones of her brows were heavy ridges, shadowing her eyes, giving them an almost sunken look. She had no actual eyebrows, instead, there was a thin ridge of scale which stretched across her forehead from one side to the other, locking her face in a permanent fierce frown.

Even the very shape of her face had been twisted, pulling out her jaw until she seemed to almost have a rudimentary muzzle and Van could see that many of her teeth were in fact conical in shape and razor sharp. It was almost as if she’d been crossed with a dragon at one point during the process and Van couldn’t help but look over at Kamata, noting the scars dotting his flanks.

Had they taken pieces of him to make her? Was she truly part dragon? Sweet gods of Gaea, what a hodgepodge of species they all were.

That wasn’t even the worst of it though. As Mora continued to wash her body with the gel, Van could see that like Dilandau and himself, she’d grown wings... but unlike the two of them, they would never enable her to fly. Instead, they were long thin appendages, featherless and awkward looking as they sprouted from her back like a second set of deformed arms. There were even thin scales running down her spine! How could Shroden for all his inhumanity allow a wretch such as this to exist? It was cruel even for him and Van felt tears edge his eyes as he looked down at her still body laying in the arms of the healer.

“This is not natural.” The healer growled softly, looking as horrified as Van as he struggled to take in the twisted body in his arms. “This is human sorcery at it’s worst.” Unable to form the words, Van nodded his head, desperately wishing that he’d been able to do something to prevent this from happening to her. She was just a child, no older than himself.

“I have some herbs...” Mora murmured softly, his eyes filled with sorrow and Van realized just how much this offer likely cost him. “They will let her slip away peacefully...” It would be an act of mercy, anyone could see that. Unfortunately, not everyone in their group was reasonable.

Before he could even reply to the subtle yet terrible request, there was a tremendous splash and both Van and the healer were tossed into the water, sputtering in shock as the stared up at their attacker. Dilandau crouched in between them, the girl held protectively in his arms and his wings mantling, protecting her from attack as he snarled openly. The attack had been so quick and thorough that the king honestly had no idea how he’d been thrown, despite his body making it quite clear that he had been. Behind them, the king could hear Kamata snarling, sensing the surge in aggression and not liking it one bit.

“Don’t you dare even think about killing her.” He all but hissed, his eyes shining with that brilliant energist light. Van could feel the energy crackling in the air around them as the albino glared, ready to fight his allies to the death if need be.

“What sort of life will she lead Dilandau?” Van asked, retrieving the fanelian boy’s body from the water and sitting up, doing his best to get the water out of his eyes. Off to his side, the healer was sputtering, having swallowed some of the river water when he’d been thrown. “Look at her, she’s not human.”

“Neither are we!” The dragonslayer yelled furiously. “We’re fucking draconians! We’re demons to the eyes of the world! Do we not deserve to live either? So she looks different! Who cares! What matters is that she fought the odds to survive! I didn’t spare her Van, she saved herself. More importantly, she stayed alive through Shroden’s experiments! Are you going to take that away from her now? After all she’s been through to survive you’re going to rip her victory away?” There was honest pain in his voice as he held the girl close, sharing the warmth of his body with her and Van realized belatedly that this likely had little to do with the girl and everything to do with fourteen lives ending on a barren plateau colours ago. Dilandau has lost everthing then, everyone who’d given his life meaning and comfort... now he had a chance to save someone who depended on him, to atone for his past failure, even if it was only in his mind.

“I understand that.” Van said, willing himself to be calm and doing his best to ignore the loudly hissing dragon behind him. Right now, the greater danger was in front... and that was more than a little unsettling to realize. “I really do Dilandau and I don’t want her to die, but look at her. Really look at her. What kind of life can you give her?”

The dragonslayer looked down at the deformed girl, the glow fading from his eyes somewhat and the dangerous energy dissipating as quickly as it had risen, but the king wasn’t fooled. Things could still go south in seconds if he said or did the wrong thing.

“I can give her a choice Van.” Dilandau all but whispered softly. “I can give her the one thing I never had. Something my men had never been given. Will you deny her that?”

It was a low blow and Van knew that he’d lost the fight. There was no way that Dilandau was going to relent, he could see it in those eyes. Worse, if he tried to force the issue, the trust that had been built up between the two of them would be irrevocably shattered and the young king honestly had no idea just how badly that would psychologically damage the already unbalanced albino. He could very easily regress back to how he’d been at the later stages of the war, murdering everything within reach just to revel in their death.

Besides... as much as his common sense pleaded otherwise, he honestly felt that Dilandau did bring up a good point. If the girl was healthy and truly wanted to live, who were they to take the choice away from her? No, she’d never fit in in society, but neither did the rest of them. They were all outsiders to one degree or another and each of them were just as deserving of a chance at life. Van and Dilandau both wore their ugliness on the inside, this girl wore it on her face. Either way, they were all cursed monsters in the eyes of the world. What right did they have to decide who was deserving of life and who wasn’t?

“You’re right.” He admitted finally, meeting those suspicious eyes calmly. “You’re right, she deserves a chance to decide her own destiny. After all she’s been through, it’s not our place to take that choice away.” As he spoke, he looked down at the girls twisted features and sighed softly to himself. She’d better have a will of iron and a strong personality if she was going to survive what the world was going to throw at her.

Stepping forward, he shifted the boy to one arm so that he could gently take the girl from Dilandau, impressed that the dragonslayer actually let him anywhere near her. It showed just how far the two of them had come since their days on opposing sides of the war and Van couldn’t help but lean forward and gently kiss the other teen.

At first, those soft silken lips were slack and he could feel the tension still filling the albino’s body, but after a moment, Dilandau moaned softly and leaned into the kiss. Heated lips parted and Van felt that deliciously molten tongue slide into his mouth, claiming all that it touched with a desperate ferocity even as strong fingers tangled in his hair, effectively trapping the poor unconscious kids between them.

For a long moment, nothing existed beyond those lips, that tongue and the passion burning between them... then there was a sharp nudge in Van’s back, neatly sending him sprawling into the water once again and causing them to scramble to reclaim their charges before they could be swept away. Luckily, they hadn’t drifted very far, but the moment was rather effectively ruined.

Glaring at his attacker, Van saw Kamata standing there, large eyes staring at him expectantly as if the dragon was demanding his share of attention. The king wanted to be furious with the dumb beast, hells, he wanted to be furious with Dilandau too, but it was impossible. The dragon was just too dumb to stay mad at, especially for such a childish stunt and Dilandau... He stood there nearly waist deep in water, holding the unconscious girl carefully in his arms while his wings continued to mantle beautifully around them. Wet snowy white hair hung around his face, framing it perfectly and those kiss swollen lips were turned up in a slight smile, twitching at the corners as he struggled not to laugh at Van’s ignoble position. The fury of moments ago, completely evaporated now that the crisis had passed.

As for Mora, he was slowly standing up, appearing to be nothing more than a little wet from his misadventure which was surprising considering how utterly ruthless the dragonslayer was. The old wolf looked at the two of them and the still forms in their arms, feeling a growing respect for these two strange newcomers. He didn’t know their story save that there was a great deal of pain in their pasts, but they’d overcome monumental odds to end up here today and there was no mistaking the powerful bonds holding them together.

To the wolf clan, every life was sacred in it’s own way no matter how different. He knew that humans didn’t feel the same way and often shunned that which as unfamiliar. Taking such a stand, risking alienating their newly won allies, not to mention shattering their small and fragile pack to save one, no matter how twisted in body spoke of great strength of character. Admitting a grave mistake to one’s angry mate was just as impressive, especially considering the circumstances. Cursed they might be, but Mora felt that their nobility was far more relevant. There was no doubt in his mind that these two would move mountains to keep their injured safe. It was an honour to have his fate entwined with theirs.

“I will take these two and see that they are resting comfortably for the night.” The old wolf murmured, sloshing towards them, not that either teen really noticed his approach, or the subsequent gentle removal of the survivors. “I would suggest washing.” He allowed himself a slight smile, not bothered at all by the lack of attention. “I’ll leave some soap root by the rocks for you.” With that, he sloshed out of the water with his burdens, carefully passing them to younger and stronger wolves once the buoyancy of the water ceased to help.

Now that Van’s arms were free, he reached out to Dilandau, running his fingers through those gorgeous wings of his, stroking through the feathers to reach the soft skin beneath and earning a soft moan of pleasure as the dragonslayer practically melted against him. Searing hot lips found his once again and ignited a firestorm inside him as the kiss deepened into an exquisite union.

It felt so wonderful and honestly made him wonder just how he’d ever survived so long without experiencing this pleasure. Nothing mattered beyond the two of them and the searing heat quickly filling his body. Slowly, his wings wrapped around the two of them, cocooning them away from the rest of the world as they lazily began to explore each others bodies.

Even though they’d held each other tightly more times than either of them could count over the past few weeks, that had been sheer necessity. Their bodies had been too exhausted and traumatized to take much enjoyment out of the contact, but now... Here they were, surrounded by allies, free from their captors and bathed in the last bit of post summer warmth. Now they could touch and explore and Van found himself not caring that there was a group of people not too far away, several of whom were chuckling in amusement even as they politely averted their eyes from the young lovers. He could be embarrassed later. Right now, all he wanted to do was continue to kiss that hungry mouth and gently trace along the many faint ridges of old scars which decorated the albino’s pale flesh.

Dilandau seemed to be of similar mind and his fingers slid down Van’s back, idly rubbing where the wings met his back and gently massaging the muscles there, making the king moan deep in the back of his throat.

No one had ever touched him there. Even Hitomi had much preferred to simply stare at his wings rather than touch them and even though she’d accepted them as a part of him, she’d still always looked at him as if they’d somehow made him different... other. Dilandau didn’t. With or without the wings, he was still simply Van; nemesis, ally... lover.

Despite their previously terrible history and tumultuous acquaintance, they had managed to move past that and something greater was growing within their hearts. It quickened Van’s breath just to think about it and he felt his knees quiver in excitement at the idea of exploring this together.

Of course, how quickly they proceeded along this strange new road was going to differ drastically. The king realized this as he felt those skillful fingers slide down from his wings and trace along his sides to his hips. His body wanted this, that much was for sure and he could feel the rigid flesh of Dilandau’s arousal pressed against his thigh, demanding and almost threatening in it’s need. Van’s own body was screaming for attention and his fingernails dug into pale skin as the warm palm of a hand slid across his groin, firmly cupping the aching flesh.

It felt like an explosion had gone off in his pants at the touch and Van simply wasn’t ready for such a surge of sensation. Yelping sharply in shock, Van leaped back, breaking the kiss. His wings flew open, exposing them both to the cool evening air and giving the king a clear look at Dilandau’s utterly shocked expression. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that sort of reaction from the darker teen and looked torn between confusion and worrying about what had gone wrong with their moment of tender sensuality.

Blushing hotly, Van looked down at the water, then at Dilandau, then up at the sky, unsure where to keep his gaze but fully aware that he was now blushing a brilliant crimson. His body seemed to hum with energy, aching in strange new ways that his mind was still struggling to interpret.

“I.... I....” Words! Use your damn words! His little inner voice yelled. Or at least it tried to, but honestly, Van was pretty sure that there wasn’t enough blood left to power his brain at this exact moment.

“Are you alright?” Dilandau asked, sounding cautious for perhaps the first time in his life. Van could see him trying to work through what had happened to cause such an extreme reaction, searching for any sort of conclusion that made sense... and apparently reaching the wrong one because a look of pure fury filled his face, turning his eyes molten.

“Did that bastard Salzar touch you?” He snarled softly, looking fully prepared to fly back to the labs himself and exact bloody vengeance on Van’s behalf.

“NO!! no... No he didn’t.” Van sputtered a tad louder than necessary and he darted forwards, catching Dilandau’s arm and squeezing it gently in reassurance even as he saw those great wings spread in preparation to takeoff. “I... I’ve just never been touched there.” He murmured, wishing he didn’t sound as ashamed over this fact as he did. Because really, what did he have to be ashamed about? He’d been busy training to hunt dragons and take over a kingdom! He’d been fighting in a war and then trying to rebuild said kingdom... being intimate with anyone hadn’t been a priority despite the mounting pressure from his advisors. It wasn’t his fault that the girl he’d loved had been from another world and had spent the majority of her time mooning over Allen before even realizing that Van existed as a man, let alone one worthy of her attention. Then, to top it off, she’d chosen to return there rather than stay with him.... His love life was pathetic and should serve as a cautionary tale of some sort... maybe a bad comedy.

“I... it’s just a little fast.” It bothered him that he sounded so shy and ashamed about his innocence, especially in light of just how mindbogglingly worldly Dilandau was. The king still couldn’t wrap his mind around why the dragonslayer would even want him. Dilandau had always surrounded himself with the most beautiful young men on Gaea, with himself as the crown jewel. What did Van have to provide him? He was short, only marginally decent looking and quite obviously had the carnal knowledge of a rather unexciting rock! He’d be lucky if the albino even wanted to hold his hand after this little embarassment.

“Fast?” The dragonslayer didn’t seem to be able to wrap his head around the concept and Van had a feeling that the albino’s idea of romance was locking the door so no one could walk in on him.

“I mean...” Van licked his lips nervously. There were so many concerns that he wanted to put into words, but just wasn’t sure how to do it without offending the temperamental youth in his arms. “I mean... what is this between us? Is this just a... a fling? Just a victory celebration? Or is it something more?” He knew that he was babbling, but couldn’t seem to shut off the stream of words once they’d gotten started. He desperately wanted it to be something more, yeah, it made no sense and was likely the worst decision of his life, but just saying it... thinking it made his heart ache deliciously and he hoped that Dilandau saw which answer it was the king wanted to hear.

“I want it to be more.” Van continued before Dilandau could say anything. “I... I think that there’s something here between us. I also know that it won’t be easy. I mean, nothing really ever seems to be for us, but I want this to work... but... but there’s so much between us... can we just shove it all aside like this?”

Again Dilandau opened his mouth to reply and once again Van cut him off.

“I mean sure, we’re both guys and that’s going to drive everyone around us nuts. My councillors will likely fall over with heart attacks and Allen will probably try to geld me, not to mention what everyone else who’ll treat us like social lepers or something. But I’ll do it. I really will... I just want to make sure that you want all of this too.”

Once more Dilandau opened his mouth, and Van again nearly interrupted him, but a finger pressing firmly against his lips silenced him rather effectively. Favouring the nervous king with a smile of pure amusement, Dilandau couldn’t quite keep from grinning.

“You think too much Van.” The albino stated once it was clear that he was going to finally get a chance to speak. “No matter what I do or who I do it with, I’m going to get crap from everyone around me. I don’t care. None of them have the power to hurt me.” Leaning forward, he removed his fingertip just long enough to steal a gentle kiss from Van’s lips before replacing it, keeping the darker youth’s mouth shut.

“This is a big thing for me too Van. I’ve hated you for so long that it feels as if it’s etched into my bones, but I don’t hate you now. I’m not exactly if I can even put what I feel into words that would make sense, but I do know that I trust you, I want to be around you and yeah, I want to pin you down and ride you until our bodies shatter.” He shivered delicately as he said this, hat lighting up his eyes for a moment and Van blushed hotly, realizing that Dilandau was no doubt picturing exactly that. “

If you’re worried that I’m just seeing this as some sort of challenge and one I’ve seduced you, I’ll leave, then I’ll gladly correct of that assumption. Over and over and over again. Several times a day if you’re up for it.” He grinned lasciviously at the furiously blushing king. “So there’s no need to worry.”

“I just...” His cheeks were burning so hot that Van was convinced that the water around them would probably evaporate on contact. “It’s... I’m still new to all this remember. I have no idea what I’m doing really...” He blurted out a tad louder than intended. OH gods, had he just openly admitted his utter lack of experience to Dilandau? Sure, he’d admitted to having never kissed before, but this... this felt strangely emasculating, as if he should be the one stepping in and sweeping the dragonslayer off of his feet and taking charge. It was as if he was admitting that his rival was better at something than he was, and that made his wings rise up aggressively for a moment as he privately swore to become the worlds fastest learner. Still, he couldn’t quite keep his next request from sounding soft and almost shy. “Could we maybe.... go slow? I... I don’t want to rush into this.”

“Are you saying that you don’t want to fuck me?” Dilandau’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Van knew that there were exposed nerves here just waiting to be struck. For all of the dragonslayers overwhelming confidence, he didn’t seem to be able to handle the concept of rejection well at all. Granted, from what he’d learned and seen, rejection seemed to equate failure with Dilandau, and all of Gaea knew how well he handled that.

Realizing that his words might very easily be taken the wrong way, Van impulsively reached up, tangling his fingers in Dilandau’s hair and pulled his had down into a deep fierce soul igniting kiss that made his toes curl in pleasure and lightning dance through his groin. He met a shadow of resistance for a whole half second before Dilandau melted perfectly into the kiss, his body pressing against Van’s, firm flesh rubbing enticingly against the king’s thigh and best of all, a soft whimper of pure need was pulled from the dragonslayer’s throat.

When they parted for breath, he had the satisfaction of seeing those crimson eyes glazed with passion and the taller youth actually swayed slightly, held up almost entirely by Van’s strong grip.

“I want you Dilandau. In every way possible, but I want it to mean more than just pleasure between us. I want to get to know you. All of you. Physically, mentally, spiritually. When we finally m...make love...” There was no way his blush could possibly get redder, but somehow it managed. “I want to to be perfect.”

Pulling the dragonslayer down into another deep kiss, Van knew that he’d somehow said the perfect thing if Dilandau’s enthusiasm was anything to go by. Now it was his turn to feel the so much more worldly teen shiver submissively against him as the king’s tongue eagerly explored the hot mouth of his lover. It stroked lazily over teeth and tongue, memorizing every detail and claiming it as his, thrilling at the sudden lack of resistance. The feeling of control, brief as it likely was going to be was thrilling, almost as much as a good battle and Van knew at once that he could quickly become wonderfully addicted to feeling the fierce warrior melt against him so perfectly.

“Do you really mean that?” Dilandau murmured breathlessly when they parted for much needed air, his own cheeks dusted with colour. Smiling, Van nodded his head, so thrilled at the look of wonder and delight on that beautiful face that he almost missed the mischievous glint in those crimson eyes. “That’s too bad, because I want to suck your cock so badly that I think I might burst.”

“Wh... People do that!?!” He blurted out loudly in shock and was forced to watch as Dilandau fell over into the water, laughing so hard that he couldn’t stand up anymore. A short ways off, playing in the shallows, Kamata grunted loudly, seeming to favour the king with a mocking look. Bastards! The lot of them!

So much for that fleeting feeling of control.

 

 

Van sat on a large rock by the water, watching the twin moons reflected across it’s surface as he gathered his thoughts together, trying to work out just what he was going to say to Hitomi. There was so much to tell her... most of it rather delicate and uncomfortable.

“Just tell the moon bitch that she made you gay.” Dilandau drawled unhelpfully from where he lay against Kamata’s side a short distance away. The dragonslayer was nibbling on some strips of jerky and feeding a few choice bits to the dragon. Van did his best to tune out the other teen, fully aware of the animosity he had for her.

“She did NOT make me gay.” He growled through gritted teeth, trying to remind himself why he’d agreed to let the albino watch him contact her when he knew damn well that it was going to cause nothing but headaches.

“Well it’s not like she ever put out if I was your first kiss. I mean you two were practically glued together for the whole war and she never even sucked your cock? Did she at least let you see her tits? Straight men are supposed to like shit like that.”

“Has anyone ever told you that when you’re nervous or uncomfortable you get vulgar?” Van sniped back and was rewarded with hearing the rather audible sound of Dilandau’s mouth snapping shut. “Now be quiet. I need to concentrate to do this and you promised that you wouldn’t cause trouble.”

“No, I promised that I wouldn’t threaten her life... or threaten to torture her... or set her on fire... I was being incredibly generous really.”

Rolling his eyes, Van looked up at the shining blue and green orb hanging high up in the heavens, a light dusting of clouds shifting slowly over its surface.

“Bet Allen saw her tits....” The dragonslayer mumbled softly.

Taking a deep breath, Van turned around and glared at the dragonslayer, his wings lifting aggressively into the air.

“For your information, yes, I have seen AND felt her breasts! Are you happy now? Has that soothed some twisted little part of your mind?” The king glared at his pale companion, dark eyes glittering in the moon’s light. There was no need to elaborate, explaining that it had been when he’d been performing CPR on the girl, trying to restart her heart after that damned doppelganger had attacked her. Let Dilandau come to his own conclusions. Besides, he knew damn well that the dragonslayer’s list of lovers likely filled an entire book. Why was he even bothering with that? It’s not like they were in competition with each other in this regards, he had openly admitted that he knew nothing about sex other than a growing desire to learn....

“Wait....” Van studied Dilandau’s softly glowing form, noting the narrowed eyes and tightly tucked in wings. Something was bothering the dragonslayer. It wasn’t enough to set Kamata off, granted, the dragon likely was mostly desensitized to the volatile mood of his companion so wasn’t a reliable barometer. “Are you trying to compete against Hitomi?”

“Of course not!” Dilandau huffed angrily before getting up to his feet and stalking over to Van. For a moment, the two exchanged glares as they took each others measure. Then, before Van could react, Dilandau lunged forward, grabbing Van’s hair and pulling him into a deep soul devouring kiss. Any possible argument or fight Van might have had planned blew away into nothingness as his blood left his brain for the third or fourth time today... not that he was keeping track.

This time however, when Dilandau’s palm caressed the front of his pants, pressing against Van’s aching flesh with slow rolling pressure, the king didn’t pull away. Instead, his body surprised him by pressing against the touch and thrilling at how his flesh seemed to come alive like never before.

Sure, he’d touched himself before, he was a healthy young male after all, but it had never felt like this. The intensity, the delicious thrill, the way his body seemed to be filled with a concussive series of explosions all centered in his groin... he found himself clutching at Dilandau just to keep from falling over from the pleasure.

Too soon, the dragonslayer pulled away, favouring his swollen aching flesh with another gentle squeeze and smiling deviously.

“Bet she’s never done that for you.” He gloated openly. “Now when you talk to her, your body will damn well remember which of us is superior.”

Van wanted to yell at him, call him childishly jealous and paranoid, but for several long seconds, all he really cared about was how he could convince Dilandau to put his hands back there and finish what he’d started! Instead, looking fully aware of the situation he’d just left the king in, Dilandau sauntered back to Kamata and sat back down in his previous position.

“Go on, call the bitch. Have fun explaining the raging boner.” Yup, Van was going to murder him repeatedly.

“I hate you.” Van ground out, wondering when his life had decided to purposefully become so difficult for him. Even thinking about blatantly unpleasant things did nothing to kill his erection, though a few did manage to turn is stomach. Through it all, Dilandau simply sat and watched with smug sly eyed interest, no doubt mentally patting himself on the back for finding a new way to torture the fanelian king.

It wasn’t easy to focus on the moon now that his pants were too tight and his groin throbbed incessantly, but after several deep breaths, he finally felt his mind reaching out beyond his body as the shining silvery glow of the Mystic Moon filled his soul.

 _“_ _Van?!”_ Hitomi appeared in front of him, her translucent body floating just above the water. Her green eyes were wide with worry and she reached out a hand as if to touch him. _“Oh Van, I’ve been trying to reach you! I’ve been having the most terrible nightmares.”_ She shuddered as she spoke, looking haunted by whatever she’d seen.

Her worry wasn’t an exaggeration, he could see how her eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep and her skin had grown pale and sallow. Today she wore a light shirt and dress, the outfit more closely resembled a ladies underclothing than anything a respectable woman would wear, but Van had long ago learned to accept that the Mystic Moon’s women were... unique in nearly every regard.

“Hitomi.” He still felt lighter when he saw her, as if a weight was lifting from his soul. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you... I was worried that they’d know... that they’d try to find a way to reach you.”

“You forgot you mean.” Dilandau grumbled softly off to the side, sounding more than a little disgusted as his eyes tried to pierce through the veils between the worlds and allow him to see the woman he loathed.

Once again, Van struggled to ignore the colour commentary and listen to his beloved friend.

“I’m sorry Hitomi...” He murmured softly. “You were right... We should have left when you warned us... Basram... they made the Fate Soldiers-”

“Don’t you dare.” Dilandau interrupted again, this time his voice sharp with anger, causing Kamata to growl softly in emphasis. Pausing his somewhat mentally rehearsed speech, Van turned to look at the dragonslayer. “Don’t you dare say we should have left and avoided all of that. If we hadn’t been captured, you and I would still hate each others guts. Yeah, it sucked, but I wouldn’t change it.” There was so much not being said in that statement, Van could feel it hanging there in the air between them and a lump swelled up in this throat. Dilandau had come face to face with his worst nightmare over and over again in there, but he didn’t regret it because it had brought them together? Sometimes he wanted to throttle the dragonslayer, other times he wanted to pull him into his arms and kiss him until they were both breathless. This was the latter of the two moments.

 _“_ _Van? Is everything alright?”_  
“Yeah... yeah everything is perfect.” He favoured Dilandau with a warm smile before turning back to face Hitomi, the hint of another hot blush tinting his cheeks. Hopefully it wouldn’t be easily spotted in the darkness. At least his erection seemed to be flagging... somewhat.

“Ahem... the Fate Soldiers were made. We couldn’t stop it from happening, but we got away. We’re in southern Basram now with a wolf kin tribe. We rescued two people and a dragon, they’re with us too.” Her face lit up and she smiled that gorgeous beatific smile he’d always loved so much.

 _“That’s wonderful Van! I’m so glad you could save people from that horrible place. I dreamed of it sometimes... I couldn’t see much... just so much pain and suffering. I could hear children screaming... you screaming.”_ She shuddered, hugging herself tightly and Van wished that he could reach out across the vastness of space and comfort her.

_“_ _Are you heading back to Astoria now? You need to get back to the others and prepare. The darkness is coming.”_

“Actually.” He ran his hand nervously through his hair. “We’re heading to Fanelia. I need to get Escaflowne first, then we’ll head to Astoria... I also need to make sure my people know that I’m still alive.” Her eyes sparkled slightly as she nodded her head, quite obviously approving of this plan.

 _“Good, you’ll need it for what’s to come... but... be careful Van. I’ve seen how you can get pulled into the thrill of battle, especially when_ he’s _around.”_ There was no need to ask who she was referring to, the coolness in her tone of voice made it clear.

“Is... is there something wrong?” He was almost hesitant to ask, worrying that maybe his original paranoid suspicions had been right and this really was all a cruel game devised by the dragonslayer. Was he in danger?

 _“No... not really.”_ She hedged, toying with the hem of her skirt slightly, choosing her words carefully. _“I can sense a... growing influence over you... from him. Even now, I can feel wings closing in around you like a shield, pulling you away. I’m worried... His insanity is infectious remember, it almost pulled you in once before.”_

“It’s not like that at all!” He blurted out, glancing over at Dilandau who was still watching the one sided conversation with uncanny intensity, as if sensing that the conversation had shifted to encompass him. Now it was Van’s turn to be uncomfortable and he found himself playing with the shining feather still hanging from his neck

“Um... about that... I...” His blush must have somehow made it through to her because she brightened visibly and clapped her hands together in girlish delight.

_“You’ve found someone?! Oh Van that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you-”_

“It’s Dilandau.” He blurted out and then winced immediately afterwards, wishing that he’d somehow phrased it better especially seeing how she looked at him with complete and utter confusion. There was no need to look over in Dilandau’s direction. He could practically hear the smirk.

 _“_ _I... what? I don’t understand Van....”_ Hitomi stared at him blankly, her mind simply not putting together what he’d just admitted.

“I’m in love with Dilandau.” This time he did glance over at the albino in question and saw the most open and unguarded look on the other teens face. There was no gloating, no smug victory, just pure shock. Van almost had to wonder if this was perhaps the first time he’d ever had anyone tell him that. Surely Miguel had... those two had been close right? Close enough for Shroden to murder out of jealousy.

 _“But... but you can’t be!”_ Hitomi all but sputtered, her eyes wide and voice sounding flustered. _“You both hate each other!”_ Her eyes darted around as if trying to spot the boy in question and Van could see her own cheeks reddening.

Van shook his head in denial and cupped the shining feather in his hands with obvious reverence.

“Our lives depended on each other in those cells... we kept each other sane and as safe as possible. I got to know him... he’s so much more than I ever suspected, and I want to keep learning about him. He’s incredible.”

 _“Van, that’s the trauma speaking.”_ Hitomi gave him a shaky smile, clearly doubting his sanity. _“You two have been through_ _a_ _horrifying experience. It’s only natural that you bond... but it’s not love. You can’t love him.”_

“That’s not for you to decide.” He argued, his voice dropping an octave in his growing anger. Off to the side he heard Kamata growl softly but paid the dragon no mind. His attention was firmly fixed on Hitomi. “I thought you’d be happy that we’ve put our pasts behind us. We’ve sworn to each other to move forward and combine our strengths. We trust each other and I want to spend the rest of my life with him!”

Even as he uttered the words they seemed to catch him by surprise. Did he? They’d only just kissed yesterday for the first time. Was he ready to make such a pledge? It seemed like a terrifying commitment, but the idea of going forward without that snarky, volatile, and all around exciting albino at his side wasn’t something he ever wanted to contemplate.

 _“When I asked you to try to get along with him, this wasn’t what I meant you know.”_ Her brows drew down in a slight frown of disapproval, but Van held his ground firmly.

“It doesn’t matter what you meant. We’re together and we’re stronger for it.”

 _“This is a Celena thing right? You’re just waiting for him to turn back into her?”_ There was a pleading note in her voice but Van found himself bristling at how shallow a statement that was. Yes, he’d known Celena and she was a sweet and polite girl... barring certain dream Celena’s who were more than a tad creepy. But she was nothing when compared to the vibrant and fiery captain.

“No it’s not. I love him. I love how he feels in my arms, how he kisses me, how he touches me! He’s the one I want, no one else.”

_“Oh god Van... I... I didn’t make you gay did I? Is this my fault for leaving you?”_

“I’m not gay!” Van yelled, his temper finally beginning to fail him. “It’s just him. It’s only him.”

_“Van... we can find you a nice girl... talk to Allen...”_

“Don’t you get it Hitomi? I don’t care that he’s a guy. What I care about is the person he is and how he makes me feel. We’re together now and I don’t care what anyone else has to say about it.”

 _“He burned Fanelia Van.”_ Hitomi stated in a flat angry voice, as if somehow Van had forgotten the deaths of so many of his countrymen, of Balgus, the man who’d been a father to him for years.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Van refused to shy away from the painful truth and instead held Hitomi’s eyes levelly. “But you’ve forgotten your own words to me about forgiveness, understanding and moving forward. I hated him once and it nearly destroyed me.”

_“I.... I can look at my cards...”_

“No!” Van cut her off with a slash of his hands. “No cards, no visions. We’re going to make our own fate Hitomi. I want your help protecting Gaea from this newest threat but not at the cost of what’s between us. I’m going to fight at his side and after the war we’re going to rebuild Gaea, properly this time. Either help us and save countless lives, or stay safe with your new family and let Gaea remain a memory.” She glared at him for a long moment, stung by both his words and his obstinacy. There was no doubt at all that she considered this to be a huge mistake, but thankfully she also knew that Van wasn’t about to be swayed by her.

In the end, sh heaved a heavy sigh and brushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

_“Promise me that you’re doing this for the right reasons Van. Not because he’s manipulating you or because you found out that he’s draconian too. Do you honestly love him?”_

Strong calloused hands gently rested on his shoulder as Dilandau moved up to stand behind him, offering the support of his presence and smiling slightly in gratitude, Van leaned back against his solid strength.

“Yes Hitomi. I really do.”

“Tell her that if she keeps trying to get between us, I’ll find a way to get to the Mystic Moon and I WILL track her skinny ass down. I’m sure she can fill in the rest.” Dilandau murmured softly in Van’s ear, sounding perfectly serious with the threat.

“I’m not telling her that. You agreed not to threaten her.”

 _“He’s there isn’t he?”_ Hitomi’s eyes narrowed slightly, her own formidable strength flaring for a moment. _“You tell that pale faced psychopath that if he so much as hurts a single hair on your head, I will come back to Gaea and twist his fate right out of existence.”_ It was a safe bet that neither teen wanted to hear just how similar their overprotective threats were, but Van couldn’t help but smile a little. If there hadn’t been a war, if they hadn’t been enemies... these two could have possibly gotten along rather well.

“Thanks Hitomi.” Van murmured, knowing that in her own way, the Mystic Moon girl had given, if not her approval, then her wary acceptance. It wasn’t much, but it meant the world to him, knowing that at least one of his friends still stood by him through this. “We’ll still talk right?”

This time her smile was soft and gentle, reminding him of better times before the deaths had weighed so heavily on all their souls.

 _“Of course we will. And don’t forget to tell him to be nice to you._ _Don’t you dare let him bully you Van Fanel!”_ A little late for that, but at least he could sit back and know that he gave as good as he got.... generally.

_“I need to go now. Speak to me again soon Van, let me know that you’re alright. I’ll read my cards and see if I can come up with anything helpful for you both.”_

Smiling, he watched as she faded away into the night. His eyes drifted up to the glowing Mystic Moon once again, causing him to wonder just where on that huge world she was right now. Was she looking up at the sky as he was; trying to find a world that existed just outside of her reality?

“Thank you Van.” Dilandau pressed his lips gently to the back of Van’s neck and the king could feel him smiling slightly. “That was beautiful, even if you didn’t pass on my threat.”

“I think she knew that it was there. Remember, she knows you.”

“Yeah... attempts on lives really bring people together... at least it does with us.... Sweet Fate we’re fucked up.” He chuckled as he said it and his arms reached around Van’s body, resting low on his hips. The tips of his fingers teasingly stroked along the edge of his half faded erection, perking it up to full attention almost instantly and making Van wish that he knew better cuss words than he did.

“Should I show you how proud I am with you?”

“What... what happened to going slow?” He murmured almost dreamily, losing himself to the growing heat of pleasure being coaxed forth by those skillful touches.

“Did you want me to stop?”

“Would you stop if I asked you to?”

“Do you want to find out?”

“...no.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeah, so the big question now is... Is Dilandau setting Van up for one hell of a fall? Also, it's amusing that he's totally using sex as a tool of manipulation with the poor guy, but also sort of worrisome considering his history. There's a very good chance that he's pushing his conditioning onto Van, using sex as a positive reinforcement and method of control. Of course, Van's utter innocence is rather adorable and I could just picture Balgus trying to have "The Talk" with Van and failing miserably at it before going with the "You'll figure it out when you're married" route. Poor guy.
> 
> I liked how protective Dilandau is with the survivors, using them pretty much as a coping mechanism for what happened with the dragonslayers, because we all know he's not over that by any stretch of the imagination.
> 
> It's good to see that Dilandau still loathes Hitomi. I figure that he's a tad insecure after everything that's happened and really, as far as he see's it (even if he'll never admit it) Hitomi stole Allen from him, now he see's that Van still has a thing for her... yeah... good thing she's on a different planet because I wouldn't put money on her surviving long if he found out where she was. The very idea that anyone would want someone else when they have him is just beyond Dilandau's ability to understand, and he really only has one response to things he doesn't understand...
> 
> I was a little torn on how Hitomi would take the revelation of Van's new budding relationship seeing as how when last she talked to them, Van wanted to just kill the dragonslayer and be done with it. She doesn't approve at all and thinks Van is making a huge mistake, but she'll do her best to support him as much as she can... and that will likely be the most mature response anyone will have towards this duo.
> 
> Yay! Beastkin! You gotta love them! I really like how they view our little group and are pretty much taking all the strangeness in stride.
> 
> Next Chapter!: More fun in the forests!


	12. Fight, Kill, Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> relationships, battle, reunions and a short interlude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne of the characters. no money at all. ^_^
> 
> So we've shattered the 100K mark for NaNoWriMo this month and as you might have noticed, my posting rate has dropped off. Yes, I have found gainful employment and have spent the past week running around desperately trying to learn how to do my job and not get killed in the process. (yes, this is an actual risk, though REALLY minimal) I'm handling receiving for a large building materials company so get to dodge large forklifts and heavily laden trucks all day! Yay! But, this chapter is now done and all fixed up for you and chapter 13 is well underway... at least it would be if I'd stop rewriting it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Folken might have been a brilliant strategist and diplomat, Van decided after a great deal of thought, but if he’d simply shown him how cataclysmically mind shattering a blowjob from Dilandau was, he’d have defected to Zaibach the first time he’d offered.

At least that’s what Van would have liked to have been able to think, but his mind never quite got past the sheer shock of that hot wet mouth surrounding him, drinking in his very soul with every contraction of that incredibly tight throat. His fingers tangled in snowy white hair, his hips thrust up in sharp jerks which couldn’t have been comfortable for the dragonslayer, but he didn’t seem to be complaining at all. Quite the opposite in fact. He moaned hungrily, his fingers sliding up and down Van’s slick length in time with those tightly squeezing lips. The suction was incredible, convincing him that Dilandau was doing his best to turn him inside out and the tongue!! Oh sweet gods of Gaea, his tongue lashed at sensitive flesh with utter ruthlessness, turning Van into a quivering pile of whimpering jelly as molten fire built up in his loins.

Twice now, he’d been taken to the very brink, his heart hammering in his chest, his hips jerking spaztically, driving him as deeply as possible into that silken throat, only to have the vicious and utterly evil dragonslayer pull away. Dilandau would smirk down at him from where he perched between Van’s legs, grinning like the cruel demon he was as his fingers tightened around the king’s straining flesh. The grip was firm and precise, preventing that final burst of pleasure, letting the pressure built up until Van could feel tears edging along his lashes.

It didn’t matter how shamelessly the darker teen begged for mercy, how he moaned, wept, pleaded or threatened. The grip was held until Van’s heart rate dropped and his breathing eventually grew calm and controlled... then the torture would begin again.

Never in all of his wildest dreams had he thought that his body was capable of such pleasure. Even in his most frantic throes of masturbation had he achieved even a shadow of this and all he could do was bury his fingers in that soft hair, trying to hold that cruel head and teasing mouth against his flesh, desperate to finish and lose himself in that delicious heat forever.

“Do you still want to hold back Van?” Dilandau pulled away slightly, watching the king with naked hunger in his eyes, even as he traced the weeping tip of his darkened penis against rose tinted lips, the tip of his tongue darting out, toying with foreskin and savouring the delicate pearly drops beading at the tip of his shaft. “I’ll stop whenever you want and let you get sleep. You must be tired after all... talking to your little Moon Bitch.” Those cruel lips curved up into a taunting smirk as he drew just the tip of Van’s shaft into his mouth, sucking on it playfully before swirling his tongue around it in slow sultry circles. “Have you ever pictured her doing this for you? Taking in all of you and sucking you dry?” His voice was a low almost threatening sounding purr and it made Van arch his hips up once more, desperate to drive himself into that perfect pale body.

“Beg me to finish you off Van.” Dilandau purred, drawing in Van’s entire length, letting it slide deeply into his mouth, past his soft palette and into his throat. Swallowing several times, he let the powerful muscles massage the turgid flesh, drinking in the high notes of desperation colouring the normally reserved voice and thrilled at being able to have so thoroughly conquered the darker teen.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he drew back, pressing his lips together carefully over his teeth, flattening his tongue against the ridged underside of the shaft. The flesh was nearly rock hard and quivering desperately, he could feel the pulse pounding through it like a drum. With lazy movements, he gently squeezed those delicate yet oh so tight testicles, enjoying how Van’s voice hitched again and knew that when he finally was granted release, it would be a thing of pure beauty.

“I’m waiting...”

“Please!!! Oh gods of Gaea... let me cum!”

“Have you ever dreamed of your Moon Bitch doing this to you?” The tip of that maddening tongue was back, thrusting his need back to a fever pitch, leaving his writhing wildly, hips bucking with erratic desperation.

“No! I... I didn’t know this was.... oh gods... that this was... even possible!” Oh sweet gods, if Dilandau didn’t stop this torment soon, he was going to die! His heart couldn’t take this anymore and he was pretty sure his balls were about to burst from the pressure alone.

“Tell me you want me Van.” Hot wet silk stroked across his straining flesh and Van bit out a long series of foul words that he have never before uttered in his life.

“I want you! I want you more than anyone else ever!”

“Am I beautiful?” Crimson eyes stared up at him, hungry, demanding and utterly uncompromising. Had it been any other circumstance, Van might have tried to be difficult for no other reason than to strip control away from his rival, but all thoughts of rebellion had been burned away in the fires of pure lust. All the proud king could do was capitulate and pray that he pleased the narcissistic albino enough to be granted his reward.

“Yes!” He practically screamed. “You’re gorgeous! The most beautiful creature ever to exist on Gaea!!”

“Only Gaea?” There was a hint of warning in that voice and those strong slender fingers threatened to tighten once again.

“Everywhere!” This time Van did scream, desperate to end his torment. “All of existence. No one is more beautiful, more skilled, more ruthless! Oh gods, Please Dilandau!” His hips were lifting up off the floor now and his head was spinning. Any minute now, he was going to pass out... or die. He was pretty sure he was about to die.

“Mmm good boy Van. Do you want to cum now?” Once again, Dilandau drew his entire length into his mouth, swallowing him down as he buried his nose into the nest of soft black curls at the root of his shaft. The pressure from those fingers released and with a ragged scream, Van felt that building pressure burst forth, leaving him crying out loudly as he thrust with wild abandon, heedless to the damage he was likely doing to the albino’s tender throat.

It felt as if his very essence was surging out of him, draining him dry of every vital fluid, and still, he couldn’t stop! The pleasure continued to tear through him, surge after surge, tightening every muscle until his entire body threatened to cramp and his heart beat erratically.

He could feel that incredible throat work as Dilandau swallowed every drop of his lust, the slick muscles stroking him, milking him ruthlessly until he finally lay there, his muscles quivering with exhaustion.

Everything spun in the most amazing ways and he felt as if his body was made of shimmering golden light rather than flesh and blood. He was weightless, formless, a creature of pure glowing sensation and he never wanted it to end.

Slowly, Dilandau pulled away, still playfully sucking on oversensitized flesh, making the king whimper softly as he once again took hold of that silken hair and pulled the dragonslayer up the length of his body until they lay side by side, shivering in the aftershocks of the most explosive orgasm Van had ever experienced.

“I...” Van groped for words as he wrapped his arms around that slender pale body, noticing that his wasn’t the only one slick with sweat and quivering slightly. “I had no idea....”

“Of course you didn’t.” Dilandau murmured softly, the tip of his tongue licking his lips, savouring the taste of Van’s body on his tongue. Judging by the look on his face, the dragonslayer seemed to enjoy the taste immensely.

With a contended sigh, those crimson eyes closed and the albino draped himself across Van’s body, his fingers stroking through the sensitive covert feathers on Van’s wings.

“You have an absolutely lovely cock by the way.” Despite what they’d just done, Van found himself blushing hotly at the compliment, unsure of how exactly to take it.

“Er... thanks?” He murmured, glancing down at his now spent shaft laying limp and well tended to on it’s nest of curls. Had he really just... it didn’t feel real. All of this was so new, so unexpected... only hours ago he’d had his first kiss and now this....

“I mean it.” Dilandau cracked open an eye and grinned at him playfully even as he reached out a hand and traced a delicate line down Van’s abdomen until he reached the dark root of the still aching shaft. “I could suck on that for hours... and I intend to, just so you know.” Honestly, Van had no objections to that, so long as they waited a few minutes for his heart to stop pounding and the world to stop spinning.

“I didn’t know people did that... that they’d want to put it in their mouths... I mean... I piss out of that you know.”

“Hmph, ever the romantic. Your honeyed words are the sweetest of music to my ears.” The amused sarcasm was clear and yeah, Van had to admit that that likely hadn’t been the most macho thing he could have said at this moment.

“You really like doing that?” The concept was still hard to wrap his mind around, but there was no mistaking the pleased smile which graced those gloriously sensual lips.

“I really do. It’s one of my favourite things to do actually... well, aside from actual sex and you know... full scale battles.” He licked his lips, utterly unashamed. Van couldn’t even imagine having that level of self assurance. Could he happily admit to someone that he liked to do something as lewd as that? Did he even want to try? Glancing down, still somewhat embarrassed to be openly staring at their naked sweat slicked bodies, he noticed that Dilandau looked as spent as he did.

Following the king’s gaze, the dragonslayer grinned and nibbled lightly on that lovely tanned neck, his fingers still idly stroking around Van’s groin, patiently waiting for it to stir to life once more.

“I took care of myself, don’t worry.” He favoured Van with a sharp playful nip, making it abundantly clear that they were nowhere near finished yet. “I should warn you though that I expect you to be able to keep up with me.”

“...keep up?” Van couldn’t help but squeak, feeling that warm glow beginning to grow once more in his groin. There was no denying the delighted grin on Dilandau’s face as he beheld the slowly stirring flesh twitching to attention. “W... what happened to going slow?”

Those searingly hot lips brushed against his own and Van could feel each and every one of his possible objections melting away under the skilled attentions of his lover.

“You can stop me anytime you want Van.” The light touches became more focused stroking. “Do you want me to stop?” They both knew the answer to that and with a sigh of pure surrender, Van pressed himself up into those warm skillful hands, losing himself once more to pleasure.

 

 

“I... I don’t think I can feel my legs.” Van murmured several mind shattering orgasms later, too drained to even think of moving. They lay there on their shared bedroll, wrapped in the warmth of each others wings, both of them loving the utter intimacy of their feathered cocoon.

No doubt the clan was glad that they’d given the pair their own tent. Van had of course protested at first, embarrassed at Haree’s knowing smirk as she’d stated that newly mated couples should always have their own tent and they would be rude not to provide such for such esteemed guests. Several of the other clan members had chuckled merrily at her words, no doubt remembering how easily the two had lost track of the world around them when bathing, or whenever their skin had come in contact with each other, or their wings had brushed. Alright, they’d been about as pathetically needy for each other as Millerna had been for Allen... though hopefully with a tad more dignity... oh who was he kidding? Merle would be laughing her tail off at him if she could see him right now. Well, maybe not at this exact moment...

“I assure you that your legs are still attached, as is what’s between them.” Dilandau chuckled softly, sounding about as tired and sated as Van did. It made the king feel almost giddy to know that he’d earned the dragonslayers approval, that the beautiful and worldly Dilandau had been sated by him... even if the albino had done all the work.

Those gorgeous lips of his were still swollen and infinitely kissable. A stray drop of Van’s semen doted the edge of his mouth, making the king moan softly at the memory of those glorious lips wrapped around him. His libido still wanted more, he could feel his desire stirring even as the rest of his body made it clear that first it would rest, then perhaps consume large quantities of water and food before another marathon of lust.

“Is it always like that?” He found himself asking. So far, everything he’d experienced had just gotten better and better, each progressing to a new and hitherto undreamed of level of ecstasy that he was almost scared to learn what came next.

“It gets better, believe me.” And he did, he completely believed Dilandau’s word on this because he hadn’t been led wrong yet... at least not in this regard. Still... his innocence was somewhat of a detriment at the moment because he couldn’t even imagine how this could possibly get better. It must have shown on his face because Dilandau chuckled softly and slid his hand down Van’s body once again, playfully toying with the kings very spent member.

“What else is there? I mean... I suppose to could put you in my mouth...” That prospect, while intriguing didn’t fill him with the same surge of desire as slipping between taut pale lips and feeling Dilandau’s throat close around him.

“Do you seriously not know?” The idle stroking stopped as wide crimson eyes stared at him, their open curiosity making Van feel like a guileless virgin. Maybe he really should have paid more attention to the Crusade crew’s stories.

“Well... I know that men and women do things in bed... Balgus always said that I’d figure it out once I was married... Allen didn’t talk about it much, he said that gentlemen didn’t discuss such things... but the crew... well, they talked about the cheap women they met in bars... and you’re no cheap woman.”

“Oh?” Delicate silvery brows arched slightly as those fingers stroked along his inner thigh, the touch light but pleasant. Van could almost feel himself drifting off under the gentle ministrations. Rather than give in, he reached up, sliding his fingers through that silken hair and pulled Dilandau into a deep kiss. It still thrilled him beyond belief that he could do this so freely and without fear of reprisal. Had it just been little over a colour ago that they’d drawn naked steel against each other? Now they seemed intent on fighting with other... much more interesting swords.

“There’s nothing cheap or simple about you.” Van murmured against those fiery lips, loving how even the lightest touches sent shocks of lightning through his body, making him quiver. “You’re fire made flesh.” He chuckled softly to himself as he stole another kiss.

“Remember when I told you that long ago I tried to fly up to catch a star? Well it looks like I finally found one, and this one was worth the wait.”

“Mmm I thought I was fire... now I’m a star? You sound confused.” Dilandau sucked playfully on his tongue, pressing their bodies gently together giving Van a moment to delight in just how well they seemed to fit together like this. It let him believe that maybe, just maybe they’d been made for each other.

“They’re more similar than you think.” Van murmured softly. “Folken used to study them before he vanished. He said that stars are actually suns just like our, but so far away that you could fly for an entire lifetime and never seem to draw any nearer. He said that their heat warms far off worlds like ours, but others... others they burn mercilessly with their power for daring to draw too close.”

Dilandau vaguely recalled hearing something similar, but he’d never been interested in the heavens beyond their abilities to help him navigate. If he couldn’t reach out and touch it... conquer it and grind it beneath his boot heel, then it was of no use to him. This description however was beautiful.

Once long ago, he’d been called starlight. It had been the closest thing to a name he’d had aside from his title among the beast clan. In return, he’d called his now long dead lover his sun. How amusing that they ended up being the same thing, only with one much more distant than the other... so much more untouchable.

“I don’t want to be beyond your reach.” He murmured softly in Van’s ear, meaning every word, wishing that he’d had the courage to say similar things to others who had meant so much to him. Their light had died, but Van’s still burned. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Once again, they embraced, their bodies pressed together in passion as their lips met, devouring each other hungrily until the energy seemed to thrum in the air around them, making their feathers spark.

“Names...” Dilandau sounded almost dazed when they broke for air. “They need names.”

“W...what?” Van looked up into those gorgeous crimson eyes, trying to figure out exactly where the dragonslayer’s strange brain had taken them this time.

“I never had a name when I was with Shroden and the Madoushi. I was referred to as Subject 35 in their files, but it wasn’t a name, it was a designation. The beastmen named me, but it didn’t count... they weren’t considered people in Zaibach, so their name didn’t make me a person. It was only when Emperor Dornkirk named me that I became real, that I mattered in some way other than a tool or a plaything. We need to name the two we brought with us. We need to make them people. If they aren’t real, they have no reason to wake up.” The information was both shocking and heartbreaking and spoke of so much untold horror and degradation that Van couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around it, but he could see why the dragonslayer would think like that. No doubt he felt that in giving the two survivors names, it would keep anyone from the temptation of killing them out of hand... or out of misguided senses of mercy.

“It... it doesn’t work like that.” The king cautioned softly, not wanting to set Dilandau up for any false hope. “We can name them, I completely agree with that, but it might not wake them up immediately. They need time to heal for that to happen.”

“We’re basically their parents though.” The dragonslayer continued, a strange smile lighting up his face at this thought. “We made them. We should name them.... it will erase any claim Shroden has over them.” His smile turned into a wide grim as that prospect of rebellion obviously pleased him to no end. “How do they name people in Fanelia?”

“Er...” Van was still trying to play mental catch up, unsure how they’d jumped from sex, to stars to naming people. “Normally the parents agree on a name. Sometimes it’s the name of a family member or friend they wish to honour the memory of. Other times it’s a meaningful word.”

“So... like Kamata right?”

“Didn’t you say that that means “moron” in Zaibachi?” Van favoured Dilandau with a very pointed look. “Let’s not give them insults for names. It’s cruel.” This time the dragonslayer didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he buried his face in Van’s neck for a long moment.

“I lied you know.” He mumbled, forcing Van to shift so that he could make the albino face him again.

“What are you talking about?” It was rapidly becoming obvious that he was never going to understand how the other teens demented train of thought actually worked.

“It doesn’t mean moron...” Dilandau actually sounded almost embarrassed to admit to have not been an ass when the opportunity had provided. “It means Little Brother. I figured it was appropriate... he certainly has my temper.”

Yup, this was another one of those moments where Van just wanted to pull the albino into his arms and kiss his breath away, and this time he did exactly that. Pinning the pale youth beneath him and seizing those lips with his own, thrilling at how they parted eagerly for him, welcoming him into the heated cavern of his mouth.

For several long minutes, they kissed until both teens were little more than puddles of delirious pleasure, their bodies struggling to reach arousal despite being quite thoroughly drained.

Even when their lips finally parted, Van continued to stroke Dilandau’s hair, letting the other teen know just how deeply he approved of the tender and crazy act of naming a vicious beast something so touching.

“What does your name mean?” Dilandau finally asked, nuzzling the king’s tanned hand, the tip of his tongue tracing patterns across his palm.

“It mean’s noble.” He admitted somewhat abashedly. “I think my parents hoped that it would rub off on me or something. What about your name? Is there some meaning behind it?”

“No.” Dilandau admitted without hesitation. “Emperor Dornkirk told me that it was a name without meaning, but that I shouldn’t see it as that. He said that I was a blank slate, newly born and that I would create my own destiny, give my name it’s own power. He said that I would be the one to give it greatness rather than hoping to borrow that greatness from others who’d gone before.”

As much as Van loathed the madman who had been the Zaibach Emperor, he had to admit that that was both poetic and brilliant. Honestly, it was perfect for Dilandau and the dragonslayer had certainly gone and done just that. That name would live forever in infamy and the king had no doubt that centuries from now, it would still be whispered of in fear and respect.

“So what should we name them?” He asked, curious as to what the dragonslayer would come up with.

To his surprise, Dilandau actually seemed to think about it for a several long minutes, wanting to find the perfect names to suit their family... their... children. No, Van couldn’t wrap his mind around that one. They were the same age after all! Siblings. That’s what they would be. Siblings tied together by destiny and shared pain.

“Ignis for the boy.” The dragonslayer said after the silence had stretched for some time. “It means fire in High Zaibachi.” Well, that name was hardly surprising coming from Dilandau, though given the boy’s unusual colouration, it certainly fit. Also, despite his fear, the boy had still stood up defiantly against his captors, his spirit burning brightly indeed. Smiling, Van nodded his had in acceptance.

“It’s a good name. I didn’t know that Zaibach had two languages though.”

“It has several. There’s your usual Zaibachi, that’s what most of the populace speaks, though the dialects can get rather odd if you go to the border villages. High Zaibachi is what the Madoushi speak. It’s what I originally learned, which is why I have a slightly different accent than anyone else... except the Madoushi... I sound like Shroden... the bastard.” Dilandau frowned slightly at that before continuing. “Then, there’s each of the Four Demon Armies. That’s not so much a language as a military shorthand. It can get pretty confusing when dealing with infantry goons because they pick up the most hideous slang. Of course there’s also the hand signs too... we like to keep things complicated for outsiders. Granted, it makes learning any other language seem simple enough.” Van was left gaping at that.

“How... how many languages do you know?” He was almost hesitant to ask. He himself spoke fluent Astorian and Freidian though could get by decently speaking Daedalusian and Wolf Clan. Coupled with his native fanelian, he’d figured himself to be rather well educated linguistically... at least until he’d met Allen who seemed to speak just about every language flawlessly... the pompous showoff.

“I speak High and low Zaibachi, Astorian, Basrami, Egzardian, Wolf Clan and some Daedalusian. My Fanelian is pretty pathetic but I know enough to get by thanks to Folken. My Freidian pretty much consists of “Surrender and die.” as well as a few assorted curses.

“Don’t you mean Surrender or die?” Van corrected with a smile and wasn’t at all surprised when Dilandau shook his had.

“Well that would be boring. Then they’d all surrender. Freidian’s are always so quick to do that.”

“A lot of my friends are from Freid” The king cautioned.

“All my friends died in Freid. I stand by my statement.” Yup, it was definitely time to change topics.

“What should we name the girl?” Yes, it wasn’t a smooth change, but it was better than allowing that conversation to continue. He wasn’t about to ruin a series of mind shattering orgasms with a fight.

“I named Ignis, you name the girl.” Dilandau allowed the new conversation, favouring Van with a gentle kiss, though honestly the king was more surprised to be given the honour of choosing a name. He’d have figured that Dilandau would have wanted to control all aspects of their new family and Van would have had to fight for a say.

“Well,” He said after a moment of thought. “Kamata is little brother, and she’s clearly his sibling on some level... so how about Irma? It means sister in Fanelian.”

“Ignis and Irma...” Dilandau said the names slowly, as if savouring the shape of them and then grinned widely at Van. “Perfect!”

“You sure you don’t want to give her a big scary warrior name instead?”

“No.” The dragonslayer didn’t even need to think about that one. “I think that she’s going to have the world always telling her that she’s an outcast and doesn’t belong. It’s good that her name will always remind her that she does have a place and a family who will always be there for her.”

Over and over, Dilandau somehow managed to impress Van with his thoughtfulness and protective streak, leaving the king with no doubt that anyone who gave Irma problems or tried to make her feel unwelcome would be met with fire and fury the likes of which they’d never seen... and likely wouldn’t survive. He really hoped that she wasn’t going to be the type to seek out trouble or that astronomical price on Dilandau’s head was only going to grow larger.

 

“It’s good to see you both finally up.” Rushah grinned at them both, picking up some freshly ladled porridge for them both and handing it over. Several other clan members chuckled rather knowingly, giving the two youths sidelong glances which made Van blush hotly and barely manage to mumble out thanks. Dilandau on the other hand grinned at them all and executed a rather flourishing bow, his wings spreading out majestically behind him.

“You had sex a lot.” A cub loudly announced, pointing at them accusingly. “You were noisy.”

“....sorry.” Van mumbled, shooting Dilandau a glare of death and shovelling a large spoonful of food into his mouth, suddenly desperate to hide his extreme embarassment.

“We’ll be leaving shortly and you’re welcome to join your journey with ours if you wish.” Haree sat down next to Van, giving the rather outspoken cub a playfully admonishing look. “You mentioned travelling through the lands of Freid, Those are not jungles easily travelled, especially with two of your number sick.” She glanced over at the healers tent which currently housed their two other members, Kamata lay curled up around it protectively, watching the bustle of the camp with open suspicion.

“We not want to cause bother.” Van replied, doing his best to try to get over his initial embarrassment. “Is long way, much travel.” While he truly appreciated any length of time the clan spent with them, he didn’t know their migratory habits and didn’t want to pull them too far away from their initial goals.

“You’ve already given us a story that will last through the ages. We can tell the tale of travelling with a dragon and his draconian brothers at the Great Revel. None will believe us of course, until they see the feathers. We’ll cause quite a stir and I can only imagine how much status we’ll gain from it.” She chuckled softly, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of the gains this chance meeting would bring her clan for many years to come. “Besides, if you wish to reach Fanelia, you’ll likely end up in the Wasting. That is not a forgiving land for those who don’t know it’s secrets.”

“You know secrets?” Van couldn’t help but perk up slightly. While he would much prefer to just travel into Godashim and hire transportation there, he knew that bringing Dilandau anywhere near the city would be a massive mistake. They were going to have to avoid all civilization and while both teens were accomplished at survival in the wilderness, the Wasting was an entirely different beast.

“Our clan is one of the few who have ancestral roads through it, though it came at a high cost. Our clan name, the Red Paws is in honour of the first crossing of our ancestors long ago across the Wasting. It’s said that the land they came from was far to the west, a lush village where fruit hung low on the vine, meat was plentiful and the water was always sweet. Then, without warning, the sky grew dark at midday, the mountains spit fire and burning poison. Our ancestors were forced to flee within nothing but the clothes on their backs and a desperate desire to survive.

The fires drove them into the Wasting and the poison clouds followed them, killing the weak and the slow. They travelled for days without end until their paws bled with every step, painting their tracks red. Many later said that that is one of their clearest memories of that terrible time... looking back across the barren wasteland and seeing the red tracks on the earth.

“We took the name to remind ourselves of their strength, perseverance and bravery, but to also remind us that we must always be moving, that no camp is ever truly secure. Our home travels with us wherever we go, and thus, so long as one of us lives, we will never be lost again.” Van was deeply touched by her words and the story, feeling a certain kinship with the loss these noble people had suffered. Of course, unlike them, he’d ended up travelling with the source of his home’s destruction. Hmph, Dilandau would likely enjoy being compared to a volcano.

“I lost home to fire.” He murmured to her. “Believe same thing. So long as people are safe, so long as I safe, all can be rebuilt.” Shifting slightly, he looked around the camp at the cubs chasing each other playfully, many of them already proudly wearing the draconian feathers on necklaces. Several of the adults also sported the shining plumes and Van was both flattered and worried. While it was lovely to feel this sense of inclusion and acceptance, the feathers would tell Basram that they’d crossed paths, and he didn’t want to even think about what would happen then.

“Bad men still after us... they begin another war. Many villages will burn, many clans will be lost. Human, beastkin...all lost.” Dammit, he wished he could explain this better. “They hunt us... see feathers, they will know you meet. Know you helped... will hurt clan.” He pointed towards the healers tent. “They make more like our hurt packmates, not able to rescue... they will be dangerous... sick in head. They will bring the great armours and kill all in their way.”

Haree’s ears flattened slightly at his words and she growled softly as she envisioned the threat he was struggling to describe, her eyes inevitably straying to her pack, as if to assure herself that they were still safe.

“Not mean to put in danger... we sick, tired... you help much. We leave if you wish. Not want to make danger for you.”

“And do what?” Her growl grew marginally louder and the challenge in it was clear. “The two of you and your dragon cub will defeat the army of Basram? You will fight your siblings alone to protect this land and those around it? Both of you are still exhausted despite your mates displays of bravado. If we left you to walk upon your own path, we have no guarantee that we’d be safe. They took the Steel Claws, and they had done nothing. Why would we be spared? All we would be accomplishing is making it far more likely that they would take you back, and I wouldn’t trust those monsters with a week old carcass. No, the risk will be shared and together here will be strength. Rushah and I have already discussed this with the rest of the clan. You will walk with us until your journey is complete.”

To say that Van was a little overwhelmed was a bit of an understatement and he spent several long seconds gaping at her like an idiot, trying to digest everything that she’d just said.

“But... but you tell Dila... Nakishi that you not see clan in danger.”

“Hmph, I will not put my clan in danger for a posturing Iron Fang.” She huffed softly, staring levelly at him in pride. “Nakashi can make a claim for our aid as an Iron Fang, it’s his right, just as we could call upon him if the need arises, but he can not demand that we step into danger blindly. No, what we do is walk into danger because it is what is right. None of us can turn our backs to your pack, knowing what you’ve survived and what still hunts you. Your pack is as strong as it is unusual, but your journey has been long. Join your pack with ours along this journey and we will tear down any foe.” As she spoke, she barred her rather formidable fangs and Van could easily imagine the damage they could do should she be so inclined.

“Deepest thanks. If travels ever take your clan to Fanelia, Red Paws will always be deeply honoured.”

“Weren’t you listening cub? I said our paths are one. We will see you to your destination.”

“But... it’s so far away.” His protest lacked any sort of weight. Honestly, he was honoured by this offer and knew that outright refusal would be the height of rudeness, but he still loathed to put them in such danger.

“Think of the tales we will have to tell.” Haree chuckled softly, sounding almost as if she was looking forward to the challenge. “Now pack up your tent. Kush has made a travois for you and your mate so you can carry it while we walk. We leave within the hour.”

“But... that’s not our tent...”

“You slept in it, you mated in it. It is yours and your mates. Do not argue cub, you waste breath you need for work.” Again, he was deeply honoured by the gift and really hoped that he wasn’t putting anyone out. Mentally he promised to get some hunting in while they travelled and provide the clan with a good supply of meat to make up for the huge imposition they were causing. Even if they didn’t admit it, they’d utterly uprooted the lives of these beastmen.

Realizing that any further argument was pointless, he finally nodded his head, averting his gaze slightly to show his acceptance of her leadership before heading towards the tent... their tent. Once again he blushed as he realized that he was now living with the dragonslayer as mates. So much for taking it slow.

Speaking of... where the hell had his “mate” wandered off to?

Looking around, he didn’t see the shining figure of the albino, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking around. Kamata was still curled around the healer’s tent, so Dilandau was likely inside. The damn beast seemed to follow the dragonslayer like a half tamed dog. Maybe he should try to explain to the animal what a dragonslayer actually was, see if it was so eager to follow the albino then. Nah, with his luck, it would just convince the stupid thing that Dilandau was the biggest baddest predator around and it would be even more attached to him.

 

Dilandau crouched in the dim confines of the tent, breathing in the cloying scent of too many herbs in too small a space, watching as Mora carefully rubbed a rather sharp smelling ointment into the skin of the two survivors... Ignis and Irma. Knowing that they now had names, identities and that they’d been the ones to bestow them pleased Dilandau. It gave him a sense of kinship with them, made them his to protect and teach. They were his responsibility and he intended to take it very seriously, which was why he was here, listening to the rambling explanations of the healer, ensuring that he understood everything happening to his team.

“So this will keep their muscles from atrophying while they’re unconscious.” He frowned slightly as he picked up the bowl holding the ointment and sniffed it cautiously. Then, after a moment, he dipped a finger into it and brought it to his tongue, taking a careful taste.

Mora watched him surreptitiously as he continued to work, hiding his smile of approval.

“Yes, laying still too long can be just as dangerous as any sickness and their bodies will wither if we’re not careful. Skin doesn’t take long before it starts to degrade, sores will develop quickly and allow infections to enter the body. Not to mention that they will already be weak upon waking. This will help minimize it.”

“There’s tengu root in this.” Dilandau stated, his voice sounding thoughtful. “Are you using that for the vitamin boost or the fact that it will help carry everything through the cell walls?”

“The vitamins mostly, when combined with the lacewings, it will help give it that extra push. I want to get the medicine deeper into the body, ensuring that not only the deeper muscles, but the bones as well benefit from the ointment.” Mora’s ears perked up despite himself at the pale cub’s observations. He’d taken this one to be nothing more than a warrior for all his preening and posturing. Someone had clearly taken the time to teach him the subtle art of natural magic, not an easy thing to learn, or commonly taught. He was willing to bet that this strange draconian cub had the makings of a rather competent healer.

“You’re not worried about it reacting badly with the sunscale seeds?”

“There is no way you taste sunscale seeds in there.” The old healer countered and was met with an amused grin as the albino pointed towards a mixing bowl he’d put aside, bearing a few cracked shells in the bottom of the dish. They were tiny and easily overlooked because of their innocuous brownish grey colour, but the youth clearly had rather impressive powers of perception.

“No, normally there would be a reaction between the seeds and the tengu root, but if you rinse the root in salt brine and then bury it in heated earth for a day to draw out all moisture, it renders it’s more dangerous properties inert... I tend to dry some out whenever we dig out a nice earth oven for roasting. It also gives the meat a nice flavour.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Dilandau murmured with interest. “I’ve always mixed the two as a base for a contact poison.”

“Yes... it would indeed make a rather potent poison.” The healer shuddered at the thought, wondering just where this strange young draconian had come from to speak so casually of such lethal arts. The Iron Fangs might have taught him the skills, but they wouldn’t have encouraged their use, seeing it as a weak and cowardly way to win a battle... of course, if the boy was named after the wyverns which frequented the northern forests, perhaps they’d made an exception.

“What else are you giving them?” The old wolf watched as Dilandau leaned forward, sniffing at the breath of two still unconscious teens, lifting up their eyelids for a moment to examine their pupils as well as listening to their breathing. “They seem healthy enough, so why aren’t they waking up?”

“Ah, the impatience of youth.” Mora chuckled, resuming rubbing the ointment into Ignis’ arms. “Their bodies have undergone a tremendous shock and the dark magics are still coursing through them. I was going to rub yarrow oil on their faces and chests so that they would breathe in the fumes. It should help cleanse out the evil.”

“It will give them the shits.” Dilandau cautioned with just a hint of a smirk. “They’re part human after all.” He thought for a moment, glancing around the tent at the various herbs and powders. “Glar doesn’t grow this far south does it?”

“Lamentably not. The land is far too dry here, but once we reach the jungles of Freid, I’ll be able to harvest some.”

“Alright, use the yarrow, but keep it in small doses and we’ll make sure they get plenty of water as well. I don’t suppose anyone has a mat they don’t mind losing? If their guts do loosen up, I don’t think Kamata would take well to being covered in crap.” Mora chuckled softly at how casually blunt this draconian was when his mate seemed to blush easily over the slightest things. They were an interesting pair to be sure.

“I’ll have the children weave one, the fresh vines will be softer for their skin. While the girl’s skin should be tough enough to not be bothered, but the boy is much more human.”

“Thanks, your concern means a lot. I wouldn’t have been sure how to treat them. Normally when someone is out cold, I just toss them into some cold water to take them up. I would never have thought of the tengu and sunscale mix.”

“Still, your knowledge is quite impressive. Who taught you?”

“Bengazi of the Iron Fangs at first. He made me sample every plant and ingredient regularly to learn the effects on the body. After that, I learned from Strategos Folken... Van’s brother.” There was the weight of a long story behind those words, but Mora didn’t pry, he had a feeling he would learn what he needed to when the boy was ready. After all, they would be travelling together for some time. Speaking of travelling...

“Come, you will help me pack my medicines for travel. I’m an old wolf after all and there is much to lift and pack. If you impress me, I will allow you to add my name to your list of teachers.” No, he didn’t miss how those strange red eyes lit up at the prospect of more knowledge and allowed himself a slight smile. He had yet to take on an apprentice after his last one had left to start his own tribe nearly fifteen years ago. It was high time he passed on his skills to another, and this young pack could certainly use a competent healer.

 

It was their second day travelling down the lush banks of the Nostromo sea towards the Mnemosyne river. Of course, calling it a river was a bit of a misnomer seeing as how it was still rather massive, at least until compared to the two seas that it linked together. Clearly, some cartographer had a bit of a sense of humour... or a very bad case of distance perception.

Arguably, the river was their safest place to cross and there was a small settlement town built up around the service of ferrying people back and froth across the water. As one might expect being this far south, business wasn’t exactly booming seeing as how most intelligent merchants preferred hiring leviships rather than risking the often temperamental waters of the south, or the verdant jungles of the north. Most of the towns clientele were smugglers, simple traders or adventurers seeking their fortunes.

Their biggest problem wasn’t so much the river, as how to smuggle a dragon across it on a ferry. No Ferryman in his right mind would allow one of the vicious beasts anywhere near their boat, let alone carry one on a journey that would take the better part of a day. Simply asking around would alert every smuggler in the area and Dilandau was under no illusion that a young dragon would fetch a rather high price for some nobleman who wanted it for their menagerie.

More importantly, they didn’t have money to trade for a ride across. The RedPaws usually bargained various trinkets and furs that they’d procured during their travels but this was likely going to cost more than a few baubles and skins.

Dilandau had quietly suggested to Van that they simply either steal a ship of their own, or kidnap one of the ferrymen, forcing them to help them cross, but that idea had been shot down, leading to a rather long winded and irritating lecture on how they had to act with honour, respect human life and all sorts of other crap that Dilandau honestly didn’t really listen to. It was impressive how long Van actually spouted off about all of it, hinting that he’d likely been waiting for just such a moment to spring it on the dragonslayer.

Still, for all his self righteous lecturing, Van continued to insist that they had to be here, that there was a way to cross. Dilandau could only assume that he was using an ability similar to his own which was rather loudly insisting that yes, this was where they wanted to be. Unfortunately, neither of them were able to provide anything more detailed and they were running out of time. They’d be reaching the outskirts of the village within the hour.

“You’re going to have to hide your wings.” Van murmured as they walked just behind the main body of the clan, Kamata between them to ensure that he didn’t wander off... again.

“I need them.” Dilandau insisted, his voice indicating that he really wasn’t paying much attention to the king, his attention was alternating between carefully carving some slits into flat pieces of bone, and scanning the rapidly thinning jungle for some sign of human habitation. Something didn’t feel quite right but he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was setting him off. He’d expected to see some sign that there was a village nearby, either a marker, scouts of something. Instead, it was just rapidly thinning jungle, which was opening up a whole new problem for the albino. Not that Van would be able to sympathize at all.

“I need them to keep the sun off of me.” He elaborated, already growing irritable from the headache beginning to build up behind his eyes. Yesterday he’d taken to wrapping his now rather tattered shirt around his head and rubbing his skin with some mud he’d dug up whenever they stopped for water. As much as he loathed being dirty, he hated sunburns even more. Sweet fate, he’d kill for those welding goggles he’d taken from the Crusade.

Both he and Van had put aide their lab clothes and adopted the simple travelling kilts of the clan. Mora was currently restitching the ragged cloth into a thin cloak for the dragonslayer while some of the cubs were happily weaving various fronds together to add another layer between him and the burning rays.

He looked like some grimy foul demon who stalked the jungles for prey and it bothered him more than words could possibly express. His narcissism normally wouldn’t tolerate him allowing himself to be subjected to such disgusting treatment, but it was better than burning... at least that’s what he kept telling himself every time he had to stop and reapply another layer of mud on his once beautiful skin.

“I hate the weather in this country.” He grumbled for the tenth time in that hour alone. “When will the damn rains come? Does is always have to be so sunny?”

“The rains will come soon enough Nakahi.” Rushah chuckled, having drifted down the line to ensure that everyone was keeping up easily. “When they do, you will long for the sun.”

“Not bloody likely.” Dilandau spat back, handing his carving tools to Van so he could smear another layer of disgusting grime on his skin. Empty Fate, he’d kill for some ghostvine sap. The thick milky liquid was a natural sunblock and would keep the worst of the sun’s rays at bay for an hour or two. Of course, it didn’t grow this far south, preferring cooler climates.

“You have to admit that there’s a certain level of irony to you having to worry about being burned while the rest of us are all nice and comfortable.” Van smugly smirked at him over the head of the dragon and Dilandau replied with a rather rude hand gesture and sneer.

“Fuck you Fanel. Don’t forget that you’re flammable and I know where you sleep.”

“Very mature. Seriously though, you can’t go into town with your wings out. I know that you’re all about not hiding what you are... but this town is full of smugglers and the like. They’ll kidnap you and sell you to the highest bidder... and once they get that grime off of you, the price will only go up.” At last with the layers of mud and grime, not to mention the wolfclan clothes, no one would ever suspect that he was the dreaded Captain Albatou or even an albino. All he had to do was keep his snowy white hair covered and those damned eyes of his lowered.

“What are you even carving anyway?” Van finally asked, deciding to change topics before Dilandau could grow any bitchier. He’d been dying to ask anyway and now that he was holding the strange bone disks in his hands, he found that he was still just as lost as before.

Flat and nearly featureless on each side, the two disks had a long slit cut through the middle and little notches on either side, presumably to affix a leather strip of some sort. Really, they looked like a rather ugly piece of jewellery and Van couldn’t picture Dilandau willingly adorning himself with something so plain, let alone trying to trade it.

“It’s to keep the glare out of my eyes.” Dilandau snatched the disks and knife out of Van’s hands with perhaps a tad more force than was necessary. Some of the more isolated villages in northern Zaibach use them to keep from going snow blind. I figure they should work down here too.”

“Snow blind? That’s a thing?” Van stared at the ugly disks curiously, not quite sure of the logistics behind it, but he trusted Dilandau to know how to take care of himself. “Your country is seriously screwed up, you know that right?”

“Go ahead and insult my country again Van then see who doesn’t get their cock sucked tonight.” It said a lot towards how comfortable the young king was growing with the wolf clan that he wasn’t immediately reduced to sputtering denial. Instead, his cheeks coloured slightly but he leaned over to Rushah and loudly whispered loud enough for the dragonslayer and several nearby clans people to hear.

“He says that, but come tonight he’ll be practically begging me to let him.” Several people laughed goodnaturedly and Dilandau flipped him another rude hand sign but the king preened inwardly, noticing that the dragonslayer actually looked proud of him for the remark.

It happened in the space of an instant. One moment, they were laughing and sharing in the joke, then the pendulum in his mind swung sharply to the right. Kamata let out a loud snarl, twisting out from between the two of them and Dilandau crouched down, his wings flaring out wide as he raised his stun staff.

“Look out!” The king yelled out moments before the bushes off to the right exploded, pelting them with assorted shrapnel made up of branches, leaves and other detritus. Blinded by the foliage, Van heard one of the cubs yell out in terror while Kamata screeched in rage, his tail rising up dangerously as his large claws tore at the ground.

“Kamata! You protected Irma and Ignis!” Dilandau snapped as he grabbed a terrified cub and shoved the child behind him roughly, his eyes trying to place all of their attackers. Behind them, Rhusha was barking out orders to the adults in the clan and there was the unmistakable sound of steel being drawn.

“Drop your weapons dogs!” A mechanized voice ordered from just a little ahead of them. There was the sound of heavy armoured footsteps and a large black painted melef unit stepped through the trees, bending several saplings nearly in half. “We’ve come for some of your pups. Hand them over and we’ll let the rest of you leave.” It was a larger model, about five costa tall and well armed with two axes and several jagged blades of armour which protected the joints. Judging by the voice, the pilot was female, causing Van to gasp sharply in shock.

He seemed to be the only one caught off guard by that little surprise and felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as he realized this.

“Friend of yours?” Dilandau murmured, his crimson gaze still darting about, noting the position of their ambushers and mentally assigning them places in a little grid in his mind so he wouldn’t lose track of them.

“Slavers.” The wolf clan leader growled, his sword at the ready, making it clear that he was in no mood to cooperate. It was a sentiment shared by the rest of the clan judging by the number of defiant growls echoing around them.

Adding to the already high level of threat given by the melef, several rather heavily armed humans stepped out of the trees where they’d no doubt been hiding, laying in wait for the passing troupe. They were a mixed batch of races, mostly Freidian and Basrami, and none of them looked at all friendly.

This wasn’t some rag tag group of bandits either. Their armour was well cared for and of decent quality, all bearing a sigil of a black bladed sword with a sunburst behind it. A mercenary group most likely, who made their coin selling the lives of innocents rather than risking their own. These people were scum of the lowest quality and Van felt his lips pulling back into a snarl despite his own lack of weapons.

The ambush had obviously been laid well in advance of their arrival, though it was obvious that these human vultures had been waiting for anyone to happen by, rather than planning to capture this particular group judging by the sounds of utter surprise as they seemed to realize just what exactly they’d caught in their foul net.

“Draconians?!?”

“And a dragon!?”

“We’re going to be rich!”

“Forget the cubs, we’re set for life!”

“Well well.” The melef pilot all but purred greedily and Van could practically hear them licking their lips. “You little pack of curs certainly has made me a happy woman. Hand them over and we’ll let you keep your cubs.” Kamata shrieked again, suddenly lunging at one of the mercenaries, His teeth easily piercing the armour and finding flesh. At the man’s screams, Dilandau dove forward, his wings giving a powerful flap and propelling him neatly into the nearest mercenary, driving his shock staff into the man’s unprotected face. Hitting hard enough to propel them both backwards nearly ten feet, the energized staff flared brilliantly and there was the sound of agonized screaming followed by the unmistakable sound of cooking flesh.

Naturally, this was about when all hell broke loose.

Grabbing two cubs, Van lifted them up off the ground and spun around, the heel of his wing slamming into the mercenary who’d darted forward to grab them, no doubt intending to use them as hostages. The impact was painful and jarring, but worse for the mercenary since his nose collapsed in a spray of blood.

Not wasting a moment, Van quickly set the cubs down, grabbed the sword from the mercenaries now weakened grip and slid the full length of the blade across the man’s throat before kicking him back into the forest.

All around him, he could hear the battle being joined. Dilandau’s psychotic laughter filled the air, chilling Van’s blood as he struggled to remind himself that they were on the same side this time, that he had nothing to fear from the pale maniac. Still, old habits die hard, especially ones which had ensured his survival through many encounters and he ensured that he was on the opposite side of the battle from the albino... just in case.

While the wolf clan was well armed and prepared to defend their clan with their lives, it was clear that they weren’t trained warriors. Their weapons were for self defence and hunting, not all out battle and Van heard more than one heartbreaking yelp of pain.

With a loud war cry, the melef waded into battle, swinging the two axes with stunning efficiency, her first pass cut one of the clansmen in half as if he was nothing, blood spraying like a fine mist across the front of the battle, coating friend and foe alike.

Her next pass shattered the sword of another wolfkin, before cutting through their body and carrying through to the next one. The second wolfkin ducked aside at the last moment, avoiding death, but not serious injury as the huge weapon slashed across their back, laying it open to the bone and leaving the beastman thrashing on the ground, screaming in agony.

The shrill scream of a cub caught Van’s attention and he saw one of the mercenaries trying to drag Rhee, the little female who’d hugged him in welcome. She bravely bit and snapped at the much larger man, her cries of terror setting Van’s blood on fire.

Bellowing out a battle cry, the fanelian king dove at the mercenary, swinging his sword in a vicious arc but the attack was spoiled when rather than parrying, the man actually had the gall to pull Rhee into the path of his blade! Desperate to turn his strike aside, Van was thrown off balance and felt the sharp bite of metal across his chest. Stumbling, he nearly fell over, but quickly caught himself by flaring his wings out. Unfortunately, that made them easy targets and a pommel was brought down on hard on his humerus. The shock deadened the wing instantly and the pain caused dark spots to dance in front of his eyes. Not knowing if it was broken or not, Van lunged once again at the mercenary, but he hesitated to swing his sword just for a moment.

That moment was all they needed and Van felt a heavy weight land on him, forcing him to his knees as a weighted net closed around him. The heavy chains were yanked back, pulling Van’s feet out from under him and he fell heavily to the ground, his wings hopelessly tangled. They’d attacked him from behind!?!? What sort of honourless bastards were these mercenaries!?

“You’re going to make me a very rich man.” The mercenary grinned down at him as he struck Rhee across the temple with the butt of his sword, knocking the cub out, ending her struggles. “But because you fought back, we’re gonna take the cubs too.”

“I’ll kill you all!” Van screamed defiantly, struggling to at least get his feet beneath him so that he could lunge up and attack once more, but another sharp jerk from whoever held the net kept his feet too tangled to be of use.

Around him, chaos ruled supreme. Kamata had torn through anyone stupid enough to get near him and there were several shattered bodies laying broken on the ground courtesy of his lethal tail. The dragon was currently eyeing the melef, it’s claws digging into the ground in preparation for a pounce. It seemed that the two unconscious figures on his back had been forgotten in the heat of battle and Van knew that it the dragon leaped, they would be severely hurt, if not killed.

As for Dilandau, like Van, he’d stolen a blade off of the bodies of the fallen and seemed to be sharing a similar thought process as the dragon... which really was hardly surprising. The albino was charging the melef, his sword raised and ready to plunge into the war machine, his eyes shining bright with energist light.

Seeing the charging dragonslayer, the armour swung one of the axes, turning it to avoid cutting the clearly insane teenager in half, intending to simply knock him away. Unfortunately, Dilandau was far more agile than she gave him credit for and he leaped high into the air, his wings beating hard for a moment, shooting him up nearly twenty feet before folding tightly against his sides, letting him drop. His sword, still raised high over his head was descending even as he was and the momentum behind it would not only shatter the weapon, but likely pierce the armour as well. Van saw the plan the same instant the melef pilot did. There was no time for her to step out of the way or block the attack properly without killing the valuable prize, likely something Dilandau had been counting on.

Unfortunately, like with Van, these mercenaries thought well on their feet and a net struck the dragonslayer moments before his sword made contact with the melef. There was a terrible screech of metal against metal as the tip of the sword glanced across the melef, the spoiled blow doing little more than showering the combatants with sparks as Dilandau was yanked to the side, hitting the ground hard enough to momentarily collapse his lungs and leave him gasping loudly for breath.

Already tasting their victory, the mercenaries moved in, greed and anticipation shining in their eyes. Several had already grabbed the cubs and were brutally separating them from the adults who snarled and screamed out their rage while the melef began moving towards Kamata, being the only one truly capable of dealing with a dragon, even a young one.

Van found himself yelling with them, struggling even harder against this bonds, not caring if he was hurting himself in the process. Dimly, he was aware this his pendant was glowing brightly, as were the feathers around both his and Dilandau’s neck. By the time he realized that something was amiss, the air was practically cackling with pent up energy.

The humans hadn’t noticed it yet, but the wolf clan did and the edge of fear quickly became audible in their cries.

Naturally, the mercenaries figured that this was simply cowardly beastmen showing their animal weakness or something idiotic like that, but that would change soon enough.

Glancing over at Dilandau, Van saw him sprawled on the ground, too tangled to move, his eyes shining like active energist, his hair seeming to ripple in a nonexistent breeze as the pressure around them grew, making it harder to breathe, nearly impossible to move, pressing him down almost ruthlessly and threatening to crush him into the ground.

Only now did the humans realize there was a problem even as Kamata snarled defiantly at the melef, his tail lashing back and forth madly. The dragon was terrified, but unsure of where the greatest danger was coming from. Taking a nervous step back, it cried out loudly, a harsh broken sound that cut through the air with its clear distress.

It was as if that was the final trigger to whatever was building. All that blood and violence, but in the end, a call for help from it’s protector pushed Dilandau over the edge.

Van heard the albino shriek, felt the power surge, stealing the air from his lungs, forcing him to exhale a long visible plume of breath. Horror unlike any other filled the king as the air around them grew icy cold in an instant. Colours seem to dull, the sun suddenly failed to give proper light or warmth and the air seemed to howl around them as a strange and terrible wind picked up.

The mercenaries looked around nervously, unsure of what was happening and even the melef paused.

“Report! What’s going on out there Laree?” The pilot yelled into her comm. “My controls are frozen! Literally frozen!”

“You’re going to die.” Van murmured, his voice somehow carrying to the mercenary standing over him, still holding onto Rhee. “Everyone is going to die.”

The man never got a chance to ask what he meant before the Paths of the Dead opened up and the dead sought the lives of the living.

Blue figures flew through the air, moving too quickly to make out any details beyond the flashes of elite zaibach uniforms. They whirled through the torn brush, slamming into the bodies of the mercenaries and whoever they touched seemed to suddenly be sapped of vigour. Terrified features slackened, weapons dropped from nerveless fingers and one by one, bodies slumped to the ground, the life pulled out of them so quickly that they never even realized they’d lost. Van could see the flickering forms of their souls as they were freed, only to fade moment’s later, torn asunder by the viciousness of their attackers.

Several of the swirling blue forms dove into the melef and there was the hint of a gasp from the pilot, the mighty arms struggling to lift and defend herself, but then... nothing but stillness as the metal giant died.

The wolf clan had all dropped down as low as they could to the ground, terrified by this living nightmare, doing their best to protect the injured and the cubs but Van could see the despair in their eyes and knew that they understood that there was no stopping this force if it chose to claim them.

A sudden biting cold so intense that it burned blazed through Van and he looked up to see a spectral face, once handsome and youthful, but now twisted in rage. Hands which promised death beyond death reached out for him, ready to finish what they’d started many colours ago.

“Give me a reason not to kill you.” Miguel hissed, his voice distant, as if whispered down an empty tunnel. Another cold blast tore through Van, creating a fine layer of rime on his skin. “You stole us away from him, now you try to steal his heart? I’ll rip yours out with my bare hands and feast on your soul!”

“If you do it, he’ll die.” Van had no idea how he found the words he spoke, but the frosty white puffs of air drifted up, carrying his words and when they touched the dragonslayer, he appeared as if physically struck.

“Miguel!” Another voice snapped sharply and Van groaned at seeing a second, then a third dagonslayer appear around him, their presence sucking the life out of the ground, killing the plants beneath them.

Again, Van recognized the one who had spoken. Gatti, Dilandau’s second in command, the one he’d seen that first night in the cell.

Despite that silent moment of acceptance they’d shared, the dragonslayer in question stared at him with hard eyes that promised a horrible death should he misspeak even once. For a moment, Van could almost see the terrible wounds he’d inflicted on the dragonslayer, splitting him down the middle, cleaving his skull in two and leaving his body to be consumed in crima fire... then he was whole again, as if the injuries never happened. His eyes lied though, he knew this and in his mind, he continued to see the youth standing before him die over and over again even as those empty eyes stared into his.

“You kept him alive.” Gatti spoke, his voice flat and lifeless, sounding as distant as Miguel’s. “We are thankful for what you’ve done, what you’ve sacrificed, but there is still imbalance between us, caused by your hand. For the pain you’ve forced upon him, you will never be forgiven.”

“I don’t ask for forgiveness. Not from him or from you. I know what I did to you all and I can’t ever atone for it.” Van replied softly. Every word hurt, as if it was sheathed in shattered glass and pulled forcibly from his lungs one syllable at a time. “All I can do it help him and prevent anything like that from happening again.”

“Did you mean it?” The smallest of the trio asked. Slight of build and sporting a childsish bowl cut, he looked almost like Chid might in a few years time... ignoring the current state of undeath.

Once again, Van was met by a strange double vision, seeing the youthful boy sliced in half across the middle, blood pouring from his mouth even as his flesh was burned to ash. Shesta... the one Allen had forced to free him... the one who’d hit him for calling him short.

“P....pardon?” He really didn’t have the energy to play word games, especially not now when he was frankly utterly terrified.

“With the Moon Bitch. You told her you loved him.” Shesta clarified, his voice just as drained and empty as the others, though something sparked in the depths of his eyes. “We heard you. We heard all of it.”

“We saw all of it.” Miguel growled ominously, giving Van no guess as to what he was referring to. Yup, he was a dead man.

“I meant it!” He looked at each of them, his gaze never wavering for a moment. “I don’t know how it happened, but I do. I know it doesn’t make sense, but... I see what you all saw in him, and I want to be part of his life. I want to mean to him what you all do.”

“What we meant. Past tense.” Miguel snapped. “You took us from him!”

“Zongi and Folken killed you on Shroden’s orders. I had nothing to do with you dying. The blood of the others is on my hands, not yours. I think if it had been, Dilandau would have never forgiven me no matter what I did.” He really hoped he hadn’t pissed them off even more by blatantly mentioning the favouritism. These three did seem to be particularly protective of the captain, even more than the others. “And there is no past tense. He still loves you all desperately and the hole in his soul still bleeds. When you vanished... when we were captured, that crushed him even more than being delivered to that monster! Where were you? Why didn’t you protect him?”

“We owe our explanations to him, not you.” Gatti replied coldly, though he favoured Van with the slightest hint of a smile, something which the king was akin to screaming out his gratitude.

Before Van could say anything else, the dragonslayer blurred away, flying towards Dilandau where the others had gathered. Shesta followed moments later, leaving only Miguel standing over him, glaring down balefully.

“You treat him with the love and worship he deserves Fanel, or I will tear you apart myself before the others can stop me.” He hissed, the sound barely above a whisper. Then, oddly enough, his voice softened slightly. “Take care of him... please. He needs help more than he’ll ever admit. Don’t let him be an idiot.” Then he too was gone, blazing over to his captains side and swirling around him almost playfully.

Still too tangled to escape the net, all Van could do was lay there and watch the reunion, feeling jealousy stir in the depths of his heart, but also a deep and profound awe at the love and loyalty being shared between these vicious and misunderstood youths.

 

“Sir.” Gatti appeared kneeling in front of Dilandau, his head bowed and his posture projecting utter subservience. It did little to mollify the enraged captain, but he was hardly in a position fit for doling out his usual discipline. “We deeply apologize for our absence. Between the strange energies around you and the drugs in your system, we were prevented from being able to appear or protecting you. The connection we have with you was unstable and closed off. It wouldn’t allow us to cross from the Paths of the Dead.”

“All we could do was watch sir...” Guimel murmured, his form solidifying for a moment as he knelt just behind the second in command. The others flickered in and out of view, sometimes swirling pools of light, other times adopting their more familiar and friendly faces as they knelt at his feet, heads bowed deeply in apology... and finally, brief flickers of their final moments.

His rage drained away almost instantly, but rather than be comforted by their words, Dilandau stiffened, sick dread filling him and twisting his stomach. No... Empty Fate no... anything but that...

“How much did you see.” His voice was low, the warning in it clear. Fifteen sets of eyes lifted, each one filled with love, loyalty and a deep burning rage on his behalf.

“We saw everything sir.” Miguel appeared couching next to him, a hand gently reaching out to slide through his hair, leaving icy frost in its passing. “We wanted to kill those sorcerous bastards so many times, we tried... but the fate energies, the drugs in your system... We couldn’t cross over. This is the first time we’ve felt the connection and been able to follow it back to the realm of the living.

“Then....” Dilandau felt sickened by the revelation, realizing that his men had seen him weak and debased. They’d seen him as a thing, unable to speak, think or act for himself, existing at the whim of a madman. He must disgust them now. Any minute now, they were going to turn away like everyone else. Pity filling them, revulsion... he’d no longer be their great and all powerful leader... he’d just be a victim. “Then you know.” His voice was little more than a fearful whisper, crimson eyes wide with dread as he struggled to emotionally brace himself for the upcoming blow.

It never got easier no matter how many times he felt it... in fact, it seemed to get worse, tearing deeper chunks from his soul, leaving gaping bloody wounds in their wake. Could he endure this? His body was already trembling as he waited to be condemned. Who would turn away first? Would he see that burning love fade in Miguel’s eyes? Would Gatti’s unfailing loyalty shatter or would Guimel’s wide blue eyes fill with contempt?

“Sir...” Gatti spoke up, his voice soft but firm, cutting through the rapidly spiralling dread of their captain. “Sir we’ve always known.”

“Well, not always.” Shesta cut in, flashing Gatti a somewhat apologetic smile over the interruption. “We sort of guessed. It wasn’t until after Miguel died that we figured the rest of it out... you weren’t acting right at all. We knew Folken did something to you after you tried to kill him, but he said that if we mentioned it to anyone, even you, he’d have you court martialed. There were witnesses and everything to the attack, so we couldn’t do anything. We’re so sorry for failing you sir. We should have acted anyway.”

“Wait.. court martial? Attacking Folken? When did I do that?” Another surprise about his past, another hole in his memory. Just how many were there? How much of his life was missing? How often had his perceptions been coloured by his ignorance and just what had it cost them in the end? The questions haunted Dilandau almost as much as his confusion. Still, even that paled in comparison to how his men were acting. They’d known? But how?

The question just have been written plainly across his face because Miguel leaned forward, the tips of his fingers brushing lightly across Dilandau’s unscarred cheek, unimpeded by the net.

“You sort of talk in your sleep sir.” The handsome slayer explained, the edges of his lovely lips curling slightly in an almost bashful smile as those gentle fingers pulled back, leaving just a hint of frost in their wake. “And before you go accusing me of babbling your secrets, I never told anyone.” The smile twisted into a smirk of amusement and Miguel’s pale eyes flickered over to the other assembled dragonslayers. “This is your fault for sleeping with so many of us. We were bound to put it all together.”

“You mean... you knew what they did to me and you still followed me?” It boggled his mind as to why they would continue to willingly follow such a weak and flawed leader. It made no sense to him. Gatti should have challenged him, or they should have risen up against him together. A team without a strong leader was doomed to fail, and had he been in their position, he wouldn’t have hesitated to dispatch the failure. Failures had no place in their lives. To fail was to be useless, and Zaibach didn’t tolerate useless things...

“You’re worth following sir. In life, in death... we’ll always follow you.” This time it was Dallet who boldly spoke up from where he knelt. Though his hair partially obscuring his face, Dilandau could feel those pale grey eyes staring intently at him, leaving no room for anyone to doubt their sincerity.

Rather than being relieved, Dilandau instead felt sickened by their vow of loyalty and he looked away again, his body trembling as he struggled to control his self disgust. Whispered words cruelly murmured into his ear repeated themselves over and over again. Shorden’s parting barbs which had shattered his fragile psyche, tearing away those last precious lies around his heart and soul.

He didn’t deserve this loyalty or love... he deserved nothing but pain and humiliation because of what he was, because of what he’d forced upon his men and the disgusting Madoushi had known it.

“No... no I’m not..I made you follow me.” The words tasted like poison on his tongue and he desperately wanted to stay silent, to keep this foul confession to himself, but he couldn’t... they deserved to know the truth. They’d crossed the paths of the dead for him... he couldn’t lie in the face of such loyalty.

“Shroden... Shroden said that it’s all a lie. He... he said that I used my power on you all, that I made each of you believe in me. None of you ever had a choice... I forced myself on you, I twisted your fates with my own... and now I’m doing it to Van too...and I can’t stop!” He was shaking now, his breaths coming in rapid panicked gasps as he struggled against the nightmarish knowledge that had been weighing him down since it had eaten it’s way into his mind.

He didn’t deserve them, didn’t deserve Van... only Shroden... only his Master... Empty Fate no! He couldn’t go back to the man! He’d rather die! But he couldn’t die... things didn’t die because they’d never truly lived... instead, he’d simply cease to be, a forgotten memory in the wind.

“SIR” Gatti surged forward so violently that Dilandau actually jerked himself out of his downward spiral as eyes the colour of fine steel appeared right in front of his face, their noses practically touching. He could actually feel the spectral chill radiating off of the dragonslayer and he held that fierce gaze, waiting for death to claim him, for his men to shred his soul the way they had those foul mercenaries.

“Sir, what that bastard told you were lies and somewhere deep down inside you must know that. It wasn’t your powers hat made us believe in you or want to follow you all across the face of Gaea. You earned our loyalty just by being that short tempered, violent, abusive, loyal fierce and incredible man you are. Don’t you realize that you’ve always been the brightest light any of us has ever seen? Over and over again you’ve proven yourself to us and you continue to do it for Van and the others. We’ve seen you risk certain death for us without batting an eye. You’ve fought for us, trained us, encouraged us and believed in us, even when no one else did. Who could not want to follow you sir? You’re a force of nature and you just sweep everyone up along in your wake.”

“Besides sir,” Ryoun glanced up, adjusting his glasses the way he always had in life. “If it had been some strange fate manipulation ensuring our loyalty, that would have ended the moment we died.” He gave the others a pointed look before returning his attention to the captain. “Yet here we are, kneeling at your feet and awaiting your orders.”

“But why do you still come back for me... the dead don’t come back. Jajuka didn’t come back, my sun didn’t come back...Encia and Leon didn’t come back...” He all but whispered the final two names, barely able to admit to even himself that he felt their loss just as keenly as the others despite never having met them.

“I don’t know why we can come back.” Miguel whispered in his ear, the chill brush of his lips made Dilandau sigh softly as it evoked the memory of other more intimate touches. Despite the ropes holding him down, he leaned forward, pressing his cheek against that of his lover, wishing for more, aching for that long missed touch. “but as for the why... Sir, you’d do the same for us and we all know that with every fibre of our being and that’s what matters. More importantly, we will continue to for as long as the link remains between us.” The others all chorused their agreements one by one raising their heads as they stared at their leader with openly worshipful expressions.

Dilandau stared at them all for a long moment, a flicker of his old confidence sparking behind his eyes as he basked in their open adoration, drinking it in as if it were ambrosia itself.

Yes, he deserved their devotion, he’d earned it through thought word and deed. It wasn’t some trick of fate or underhanded mechanizations. In fact, the Madoushi would have loved to have shattered their bonds to each other, leaving him open and vulnerable. Shroden had been lying again, the way he always did, trying to bury Dilandau under his power and seal him away from anyone who cared for him. The foul bastard didn’t understand how deep the bonds between soldier and captain were. These were his men, his friends... his family. Not even death could keep them apart!

The assembled spirits seemed to sense the shift in their leader’s mood because they all relaxed minutely as the heavy weight lifted from the air around them. The fire was back in those molten ruby eyes, signifying that the battle for their captain’s soul had been won.

Being the boldest of the lot, Gatti allowed himself a hint of a grin as he took a moment to examine those slender tangled limbs still bound in the net.

“The skirt isn’t quite you sir, even if it does show off you legs.” Everyone made a point of looking now that he’d brought it up. “Though I must say,, the wings are a nice touch.”

For a moment, Dilandau almost looked insulted at the casually familiar statement, but he could hardly be one to stand on ceremony as he lay on the ground, filthy beyond belief, bound in a damn net like an animal and dressed like some ragged beastkin.

“Not really showing them at their best am I?” The albino sighed in mild irritation, doing his best to make light of just how utterly wretched he looked, wishing desperately for a small river to bathe in... and some soap... a lot of soap.

“Your new pet seems to like them well enough.” Miguel snipped softly, pulling away just enough to be able to give his captain a slight glare. “The half fanelian was bad enough, but now you’re sleeping with their king?”

“I’m not fucking him yet.” Dilandau snapped back, refusing to apologize for his actions if that’s what Miguel was fishing for. In life the dragonslayer had always tolerated his other lovers, knowing that the captain would always find his way back to his bed in the end, but now that was beyond them and jealousy proved to be stronger than death.

“A matter of semantics, sir.” A silver brow rose at the deliberate pause. Miguel must be truly upset to be so blatant. Normally he just pouted a little, perhaps gave a catty comment then moved on. This was the closest to utter insubordination as he’d ever gotten. “Look where it’s gotten you. Covering yourself in filth? Your beauty should shine like a beacon, not be smothered and hidden away.”

In the past, a quick slap would always set things right, but death aside, it had been a long time since Dilandau had struck Miguel, which seemed odd until other facts were taken into context. Disgust struggled to rise up once more and consume him in it’s greedy clutches.

“You... you were an anchor.” He murmured softly to his former lover. “I had no idea... I...Shroden found out about us... about how I felt... He ordered your death, then he made me forget it. He made me forget how I felt about you.” He was babbling and knew it, but that didn’t seem to stop the flow of heartfelt words. It was the closest to an apology as he’d ever uttered and Dillandau tried to reach out a hand to stroke his fingers along that beautiful face which had once meant the world to him. The tender gesture was spoiled by the damn net. It still bound him far too tightly and was seriously beginning to infuriate him.

“It was for the best that I never knew.” Miguel replied, smiling gently. “I would have been so tempted to make you be with only me. I know it wouldn’t have been my place to try to tame you, but I couldn’t have resisted it. In the end, I’d have broken your trust, even with the best of intentions. This one and only time, I’ll be proud of my ignorance.”

“I wouldn’t have minded.” He couldn’t keep himself from smiling warmly at Miguel, drinking in those handsome aristocratic features, unable to keep himself from wondering what might have been if they’d known, or if Shroden hadn’t shattered their bond.

“You realize the rest of us are still here right?” Shesta grumbled softly, pouting at their leader. There wasn’t any malice behind his words, merely amusement. The rest of the team all knew well enough where the captain’s heart had lain.

“I don’t want to be like that bastard, all jealous and refusing to let you truly live.” Miguel sighed softly, visibly bracing himself as he glanced over at his newest rival, seeing Van laying there, still entangled in his own net. “There’s other hearts for you to lay claim to. Living hearts who are capable of loving you back the way you deserve.” Unable to resist a momentary flash of utter pettiness despite his words, the dragonslayer leaned forward, boldly stealing a kiss from his leader. The heat of life flared up at the touch, sizzling through him with a tantalizing siren’s call before he pulled back, resisting the temptation once again to claim it forever. “There’s a new family waiting for you to build and shape it. Don’t forget us, but don’t forget to live as well.” Reluctantly, the dragonslayer pulled away, the others, sensing their return to the paths of the dead growing imminent rose to their feet.

Th tip of Dilandaus tongue traced now chilled lips, trying to taste Miguel on them. Nothing, only himself and a memory.

Huffing softly to himself, he looked up, noticing how his men had pulled back, silent apologies in their eyes. Realizing what was about to happen, Dilandau nodded his head, bracing himself for the horror of watching his men die in front of him once again, refusing to look away despite the pain it would bring him. They were leaving him once more, going to the one place he couldn’t join them and it crushed him just as badly as it had that first terrible time... wait... they were going back to the Paths of the Dead... to walk amongst the other fallen. They would know what he couldn’t and might be able to give him some small comfort.

“Don’t forget to plant a rosebush here sir.” Guimel flashed the captain a hint of a cocky grin, glancing around at the many bodies strewn about the ground. “I’d say that this counts as a battle don’t you think?”

“Where the hell am I supposed to find a damn rose bulb in the middle of a jungle?” Dilandau shot back, giving the curly haired youth a look of fond exasperation. “I kept the damn things in my guymelef.” He gestured as much as his net allowed, motioning to himself and the clearing in general. “You might have noticed it’s absence.”

“That’s no excuse sir and you know it. Always be prepared, that’s what you told us.”

“Be glad I can’t hit you right now.” The captain growled softly at the chuckling slayer even as he silently vowed to somehow acquire a damn rose bulb. Guimel was right after all, their battle had to be marked so the world would remember. Speaking of remembering...

“Tseng. Did he survive the transformation?” looking over at Gatti, Dilandau’s tone of voice became strong and confident once again as he demanded the report.

“He survived.” Gatti replied almost reluctantly. “As did those two Madoushi bastards. Six other test subjects survived the Fate Storm, though one walks between the worlds. All of them were irrevocably altered. We don’t know anything more than that. We’ll watch the Paths of the Dead for the newly arrived and we’ll listen to their tales. When we learn more, we’ll visit you. Until then, try to stay out of trouble sir.”

“That’s not going to happen and you know it.” Dilandau dredged up a shadow of his usually cocky grin, determined to let his men see that he wasn’t broken, that he would keep fighting in this world as they did in the next.

“The dead can dream sir.” The second in command smiled faintly, but both of their expressions faded as Miguel began to choke to death at the hands of the unseen Zongi. Dilandau felt himself tense as he resisted the nearly overpowering impulse to reach forward and offer some form of aid. He wanted to stop his soldiers suffering, to grant some comfort, even if it was just a touch... but that was impossible. All he could do was watch impotently, just like he always had... watching and feeling his soul shattering just a little more.

It didn’t take long, it never did. As he slumped to the ground and faded away, the others began to cry out in pain. They followed Miguel into oblivion, dying one after another in a fiery conflagration leaving only flickering blue flames to mark their passing, then... even those faded away, leaving no trace of their presence save for the droves of the dead.

Only once they’d all left did Dilandau close his eyes and hang his head, terrible sobs tearing their way out of him, leaving him shaking and shuddering. Crippling sorrow filled him so utterly that he wasn’t sure if he could breathe without his heart bursting and his body trembled on the knife edge of sanity, waiting for the tiniest push to explode into violence.

Instead, he heard the soft crunch of ground underfoot and a hard scaly snout nudged him none too gently, nearly knocking him over. A loud squeaky hiss forced him to open his eyes, where he found himself staring straight into two wide yellow eyes. Another of those strange hisses greeted him, this one sounding almost relieved, and again he was headbutted as Kamata tried to encourage him to get to his feet.

The stupid dragon needed him, worried about him. Yeah, his men were right. He had a new family who depended on him to keep them going. He couldn’t turn his back on them no matter how much it might hurt.

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up you overgrown pair of boots.” He huffed irritably, more so when a large purple tongue snaked out from between those lethal jaws and slapped across his face, leaving a disgusting line of gory drool on his cheek and hair. Sweet fate that reeked! “Oh that’s it, you’re dead.” Bold words more easily said than carried through seeing as he was still securely bound. “As soon as I get out of here, you’re dead! Ugh! Stop licking me!”

 

Rhushah carefully unbound the chains which were tightly wrapped around Van’s body, wincing as he saw how deeply they’d cut into the wings.

“How badly are you injured?” He asked with concern, noting the limp wing and the bloody gash across the king’s chest. All of those would of course require care, but the wolfman was more concerned with the more supernatural attacks he’d endured. All of the surviving clan had seen the frost forming on the skin of the dark teen and after seeing so many men suddenly drop dead, they were more than passably concerned that Van might follow suit.

“I’ll live.” Van murmured. “Just dealing with a jealous ex.” Despite the lightness of his words, Van couldn’t help but glance over at Dilandau who was still struggling against the rather relieved and overzealous dragon who was all but bouncing in place around him like an overeager pup. Though the dragonslayer was laughing and spouting out his usual threats, Van knew that it was all likely an act. The albino was likely going to barely sleep tonight, dealing with the memories of those terrible deaths and the gaping holes in his soul.

He wished that he knew what had been said between the captain and his men, but knew that it had likely been deeply private. Still, seeing Miguel kiss Dilandau... to see Dilandau let him, in fact welcome it... it threatened to tear Van’s heart out. That likely was the very reason the dragonslayer had done it. Ghost or not, he was still an ass. No wonder he’d gotten along so well with his captain.

No... that wasn’t fair. He knew of the deep love between the two, the bond between them. It’s not like Miguel could ever truly take Dilandau away, not while the captain still drew breath. Granted, if the captain died, all bets were likely off, not that Van was ever going to let that happen, but dammit, it still hurt to see!

“Do... do you know what happened?” The leader asked Van, fear making the beast kin’s eyes wide and his ears flatten down against his skull. The entire clan was currently pressed together as far away from the bodies as they could get, worried that whatever had killed them might rise up and strike once more.

Of course... they hadn’t been able to see the ghosts. It had been the same with Gaddes and the others. Only he and Dilandau could see them because of their unique heritage, or their personal connection. Either was possible.

“Bad men died.” He explained, wracking his mind to find the words to explain what had happened. It was harder to do than one might think seeing as how he wasn’t sure how much Dilandau wanted to reveal. This might be just a little too much strangeness for the clan to handle, but the king couldn’t in good conscience lie to them. “They... threaten family.” It was the best explanation he could give. Better they think that it was a draconian thing, or another bit of their packs strangeness than believe that Dilandau commanded a squad of spectral assassins with chips on their shoulders.

“Are we safe from what happened? It will not strike again and claim the clan?” Trying to smile as reassuringly as possible, Van felt the last of the chains fall away and rubbed his aching wing, carefully checking the bone for any breaks or sprains. The bone and muscle felt whole, though still warm and extremelytender at the point of impact. He likely was sporting one hell of a bruise under the feathers. Without thinking about it, he sent his wings away, feeling that they’d likely heal better without the strain of existing... as nonsensical as that sounded. Also, one less ache and pain was always welcome.

“Is power that helps in time of need. Protects pack.”

“But... you were hurt as well by it. We saw the frost form on you, we saw you in pain.” Alright, that wasn’t quite so easy to explain.

“IF YOU DON’T LET ME GO THIS INSTANT I WILL RIP YOUR DAMN ENERGIST OUT AND EAT IT!” Dilandau shrieked, drawing attention to the dragon who was now dutifully dragging the still bound albino towards Rhusha and Van, likely expecting them to free the captain as well. Clearly forward thinking was not Kamata’s strong suit seeing as how he likely wasn’t going to survive for long afterwards.

“We should likely get him out of there before they come back...” Van murmured, wondering just what exactly the criteria was that the dragonslayers used for bailing out their leader. He didn’t see Dilandau looking fondly on having them step in whenever he got into a fight, so maybe it was only when he’d bitten off more than he could chew? Or when Dilandau was freaking out and about to have another psychotic episode? It was likely just one more thing to be added to the ever growing list of things he needed answers for but were likely going to be avoided.

Needing no further encouragement than that, the wolf clan as a whole quickly scrambled to unbind the still cursing draconian and several helped him to his feet where he made a show of dusting himself off. A rather wasted effort considering he’d been covering himself with mud for the past few hours. Of course, a good deal of that had been washed off by dragon spit.

“It seems that your pack carries many secrets with it.” Mora gave Dilandau a curious look as he motioned for the teen to spread his wings so they could check for injuries. Unlike the more sensible Van, the dragonslayer seemed determined to keep his out. Of course, a few broken feathers might change his mind. Appealing to Dilandau’s vanity always seemed to work rather well.

“It wasn’t a secret I was intending to keep from you.” Dilandau replied primly, giving Mora and Rhusha respectful nods. “Those were friends, my family protecting me and those I have sworn to protect. They... they died several colours ago.”

“Then why did they attack your mate?” Haree stepped up, cradling Rhee in her arms. The cub was awake, but woozy and a medicine soaked bandage was wrapped firmly around her head.

“That wasn’t so much an attack as a warning. Miguel... was a previous mate.” The dragonslayer clarified, sounding almost amused by the attack. Oh who was Van kidding? He likely loved the idea of old lovers fighting over him. “He wanted Van to know that he didn’t approve of him.” Curious eyes fell on the king who found himself blushing yet again.

“We... didn’t get along.” He muttered, truly an understatement of the century, especially judging by the pointed look Dilandau shot him.

At least the clan seemed to accept that in stride, proving that the beastkin were far more resilient than humans. Van was pretty sure that at this point, most people would be driving them away, screaming about foul sorcery and demons. Instead, the RedPaws simply nodded their heads, accepting the blessing for what it was. Besides, they had more important things to do, like tending to the living... at least those they could save.

“Mora, I don’t suppose you have any rose seeds in your inventory?” Dilandau glanced over at the old healer who was carefully examining a bent feather and gently workingit back into place. “This site needs to be marked... to honour the battle which was fought.”

“Not the lives lost?” The old wolf glanced over at him, releasing the feather and smoothing it down with the others. He didn’t sound surprised at the request or the reason behind it. The albino warrior was the sort to have little interest in the fallen. He lived for battle, that much had been obvious and the healer knew that he was never going to forget the shrill delighted laughter which had filled the clearing during the battle. The old stories spoke of draconians as bringers of death and calamity... this one certainly proved that to be true. Still, much like the fire which could burn you and destroy the world around you, it could also warm a hearth, cook a meal and save lives in the chill of winter. There was no point in being bitter or resentful of it’s power. What it did demand was respect... and apparently rose seeds.

“I believe I have some in the green beaded bag.” He replied finally with a smile giving the wing a gentle pat and marvelling at the brilliant smile of gratitude he received in return. “When we’re finished tending to the injured, I’ll help you find a suitable place to plant your monument.”

“Thank you both for protecting our cubs.” Rhusha said to Van as he looked at a deep sword wound to the arm of a shy female Van hadn’t really gotten a chance to meet yet. The wolf girl watched them both with looks of gratitude, trust and a certain amount of trepidation, her eyes never quite meeting theirs directly. It wasn’t a sense of fear, at least not of them. Everyone was still a little shaken by the brutal attack and subsequent even more brutal victory. She simply was uncomfortable with the focused attention. Realizing this, Van spoke around her, keeping his attention focused on Rhusha and Haree.

“Both of you made their safety your priorities and for that we are in your debt.” The leader continued, drawing no attention to the shyness of his clanmate.

“No debt.” Van shook his head. “After us. Clan could have run. Chose to fight with us. Stronger together. Just... sorry for dead.” Four of the beast clan had died, and one was likely not going to last much longer with a sword wound piercing a lung. They could hear him struggling for breath even as they spoke, but the clan kept their distance, granting his mate some final moments with him.

Mora glanced over at the dying beastman several times, but kept his distance as well. There was nothing he could do. Right now, the living needed him more than the dying. At least no children had been badly hurt. There were a few sprains and Rhee likely had a light concussion, but it could have been far worse.

A rustling sound drew the attention of several of the clan and they glanced over to see Dilandau busily stripping the bodies of the dead with callous efficiency. He unfastened armour, set aside weapons in neat piles and even stacked up a small bounty of pouches and personal effects, counting out the spoils of battle.

“What are you doing?!” Van couldn’t help but snap, knowing exactly what the captain was up to but unable to quite contain his disgust. Taking a weapon in the heat of battle was one thing. Looting the corpses like a scavenger was quite another. It didn’t matter that these people had been vile and vicious rogues. The dead deserved respect. Dilandau of all people should know this.

“I’m paying for our ferry crossing.” The dragonslayer shot back. “This is good quality armour, the swords are nothing to laugh at and there’s a small fortune in jewellery here. We might not even have to sell the melef.” Alright, in that context, looting the corpses sort of made sense, but it still felt horribly wrong!

“Kamata, lunch is ready!” Dilandau called out, kicking a stripped corpse aside for the dragon who happily snapped it up, tearing into the still warm flesh with greedy gusto.

“What are you doing!?” Van yelled, stepping up and trying to pull the dragon away, only to find himself rather firmly nudged to the side by one of those powerful forelegs. “You can’t feed him people!”

“I assure you I can, please note the evidence presented in my favour.” The dragonslayer was barely paying attention to him, instead, he was heading towards the melef, a rather proprietary grin on his face. “Dibs on the melef.” He called out over his shoulder.

“Dammit Dilandau! Those are people!”

“Were people Van, past tense. Now they’re meat and we have a hungry dragon who we have to keep calm while crossing a rather large river. Unless you want to explain to him that there’s nothing to be afraid of and hope he sits still and doesn’t capsize the ferry?” The king glanced over at the dragon who was happily tearing an arm free and snapping the bone between his powerful jaws, practically radiating happiness over the indulgent treat.

“This is wrong Dilandau and you damn well know it!”

“Wrong was attempting to enslave us and take the cubs. Seriously, who is stupid enough to try to capture draconians? Haven’t these people listened to the stories? Doom, destruction, worlds ending... Not exactly the most sound investment.”

“There is something seriously wrong with your head, you know that right?” Van shook his had in disgust and gave Kamata another shove, trying to get him away from the corpse. This time he was pushed away a little less gently and there was an accompanying growl as the dragon snatched up the remains of the corpse and turned away, presenting his well armoured backside to the king.

“Let him eat.” Mora murmured softly, placing a gentle hand on Van’s shoulder. “In the end, their bodies will feel the creatures of the forest. This one is merely taking his share sooner than the others.” While there wasn’t exactly approval in the old wolf’s tone, there was a sort of acceptance, reminding Van that the practicality of the beast clans weren’t always a good thing.

“We can’t keep feeding him humans. He’ll start to see them as food.” Van protested. “Where we’re going, there will be a lot of people...a lot of humans. I don’t want to see him hurt anyone.” The old wolf smiled sadly at him and there was the weight of many years in his gaze.

“Do you truly believe that any of you will be able to avoid hurting people?” It wasn’t asked maliciously, but Van couldn’t help but flinch at how painfully true it was. “I do agree with you that this should not become a habit, it is a dangerous one which will only bring pain... but your dragon is not the one you must convince. It is your mate.”

 

Oh what a show they made, the wolf clan marching into town, ragged, injured but heads held high. New weapons hung from their belts and many sported pieces of armour from the mercenaries, Dilandau having convinced them that the clan would be better served by protecting themselves rather than selling the armour.

The dragonslayer walked behind them in the melef unit, solving his problem with the sun while also remaining unrecognized by curious eyes. Kamata stalked at his side, bristling visibly as he caught the scent and sight of humans. The dragon hissed loudly in warning, his tail swinging high, ready to strike at anyone who drew too close. Van did what he could to keep him calm by walking next to the beasts head, one hand firmly gripping a sensitive ear and murmuring for him to behave.

On his back were Ignis and Irma, carefully covered by a blanket to hide their unique appearance and offer them some warmth in the growing evening chill.

The village itself was a sprawling series of ramshackle huts cobbled together out of stone and mud. Wood was far too precious to waste on homes when it could be used for boats. There was little unity or style from one building to the next and they seem to have been put up wherever the owner in question felt a hut could go, creating endless narrow alleyways and dead ends. There was no market place or central gathering location save for the harbour itself and the clan made their way confidently in that direction.

Word spread quickly of their passing and a surprising number of people came out to gawk at the dragon, most staring with wide eyed fear while others grinned at the beast greedily, already plotting how to claim it for themselves. It was likely only the fact that the melef stomped along at the dragons side, and the fact that the beast was unbound that kept opportunists at bay, but Van didn’t dare drop his guard for a moment. Kamata was obviously worked up by the negative emotions swirling around them and looked ready to attack given the slightest provocation. Not that Van blamed him. He was ready to start swinging his sword if any of those greedy eyes fools tried to step closer.

As they entered into the harbour, the sheer vastness of the inner sea caught Van’s breath away and he stopped for a moment to just stare at the great stretch of blue reaching from horizon to horizon. It was hard to believe that this was the most narrow point of the twin seas, linking the two together. If he strained his eyes, he could almost convince himself that there was a thin line of green on the distant horizon, Freid.

“I will go exchange our goods for coin.” Rhhusha stated, heading off with three of the larger males who each bore a travois heavy with armour, weapons and loot taken from the dead. Haree was left in charge of the remaining clan and company, something she was taking very seriously as she ensured the cubs remained in the center of the clan, well away from any human predators. Those who were injured were encouraged to sit while they waited, allowing Mora to check on their injuries while Haree walked over to Van, pausing just a moment to gab some jerky for Kamata. She might be familiar and comfortable with him, but in his agitated state, she didn’t want to be taken as a threat.

“How are you all doing?” She asked the dark teen, casually though her eyes never stopped watching the gathering crowd. “I will have the others keep the humans back as much as possible so as not to upset the dragon, but that might cause further tension. Humans never react well when beastkin make demands.”

“I think Nakahi is rubbing off on me.” Van allowed himself a somewhat rueful smile. “I’m of the mind that if someone is stupid enough to approach despite our warnings, they deserve to be eaten.”

“I heard that.” Dilandau’s voice drifted down from the melef, echoing ominously over the speaker. “Good to see you’re finally learning some common sense.” The two huge axes, raised slightly and Van could practically picture the dragonslayer grinning at the villagers, daring them to attack. “Though really, I sort of hope someone tries something. there’s some fun mods to this machine that I’d love to test out in combat.”

“Hey pretty boy, you don’t need to fight.” A woman in what appeared to be her mid twenties called out to Van from the crowd, stepping towards the front, she eyed the king greedily while licking painted lips in a blatantly lewd fashion. Her clothing was several sizes too tight and revealed far too much tanned flesh for any decent woman. “You must be tired of travelling with all those bitches. Why don’t you come play with your own kind. I could show you a good time.” She spoke a strange mix of Basrami and Freidian, but Van didn’t need to understand all of her words, the intention behind them was perfectly clear. Still, he couldn’t help but stare as her fingers tugged at the laces of her blouse, pulling the already scandalous collar down low enough to expose a rather generously sized breast, the nipple large and dark.

This was certainly a first. As a king and as a man, no one had ever approached him in such a lewd fashion and Van struggled to come up with something to say even as he took a step back, pressing himself against the body of the now rumbling dragon, unable to quite tear his eyes away from the sight of so much forbidden flesh.

It was Dilandau who bailed him out as the melef took a step forward and extended the massive axe to the woman.

“Speak like that to him again and I’ll have you straddle my blade bitch. Now put your tits away and go find some other rube to fuck.” The woman stared at the huge weapon, then her eyes slowly travelled up towards the head of the mech, as if she could see the pilot within.

“What about you?” She called out boldly. “Doesn’t sound like your balls have dropped yet. I give a discount for virgins.”

“Bitch, I wouldn’t fuck you with a stolen dick.” The sneer was evident in Dilandau’s voice, as was the utter contempt, causing more than one person in the crowd to laugh. “Now piss off before I step on you.” Unable to resist what he took to be a fun new game, Kamata snapped at the woman and screeched, eager to make his own opinion heard. Van wasn’t sure if it was the very real death threat or the dragons mock attack that drove the woman away, but she was quickly swallowed by the laughing crowd... only to be replaced by another even seedier individual.

It became this nearly unending parade of degenerates, each one believing that they alone could win the dragon, either with honeyed words or offers of ludicrous amounts of gidaru. One sleazy merchant even offered Van his pick of slave girls! By the time Rhusha and the others returned, everyone was stressed and the dragon had curled itself around the melef’s legs, refusing to budge.

“No bodies.” The leader remarked with a flick of his ear. “I suppose it could have been much worse.”

“Just give me a moment, I’m sure I can make a few” Dilandau growled, adjusting his axes into a more threatening position as he protected the dragon from the greedy stares. “Tell me you have a boat arranged. I don’t trust these morons to not try something once it gets dark.” Van found himself in full agreement, not liking the looks they were getting. He honestly wouldn’t hold it past these people to grab a cub and demand the dragon in exchange. A sentiment shared by the others as well seeing as how they kept the unusually subdued cubs tight in the center of the pack.

“We found passage.” Rhusha nodded his head, not even bothering to rein in the dragonslayer, likely figuring that a good offence was the best defence in this sort of situation. “The boat is sturdy enough for the dragon to be comfortable and will support the melef. I felt it best that we leave with the tide tonight. Better to sail at night than risk this town in the darkness.”

Van’s immediate reaction was to wonder if this was their safest choice, but another quick look at the crowd around them made the decision for him.

“Yeah... good idea. Let’s head over there now.” He kept his hand on the handle of his sword, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice, and he wasn’t the only one.

As a group, they headed to the harbour and were soon surrounded by the fruits of the villages other main industry. Fishing. Crates full of assorted fish were being unloaded via a rather impressive series of pulleys operated by slaves. Many were beastmen of various clans and tribes but not all. There were enough humans chained to the heavy wheels, walking in endless circles to remind the visitors that no one was safe. Although the sight of the slaves turned his stomach, Van forced himself to look away, wincing as he heard a whip crack and a sharp cry of pain. It was as if this country was making sure that the king loathed it utterly.

“There is little we can do.” Haree murmured as she walked past him, noting his discomfort. “Often times, it is all we can do to avoid the chains ourselves. It is one of the reasons we move as often as we do. A moving target is much harder to hit.”

“Depends on your aim.” Dilandau replied, either pointedly listen in to the conversation or having some sort of sound filtering system in the melef. Either way, it was impressive that he’d caught that with all the ambient noise around them. “Gods, this place stinks worse than a cheap fanelian whore... no offence Van.”

“None taken, like you’d know what one smelled like.” The king shot back neatly, earning himself a soft chuckle. He didn’t let the banter throw him off though, he could tell that Dilandau was worried, and that in turn worried him. His dark eyes scanned the dockworkers, trying to pick out anyone who might be paying them a bit too much attention. The only problem was that everyone seemed to be doing just that. No matter where he looked, sailor, worker, slave, gawker, they were all staring. The only difference was just how open they were about it.

It was no small relief when they arrived at their ship. The boat was massive as far as Van was concerned, but then again, his experience with seagoing vessels was pretty much nil. All he’d really seen were the day fishing boats of Astoria and the much smaller ones used on lakes. This was something else entirely.

Firstly, it was big enough to carry a guymelef or two and still leave room for crew and cargo. If someone was careful, they might even be able to land the Crusade on the decks... though likely not if Dilandau was piloting it. Small wonder that it would be able to hold a dragon without too much difficulty. Kamata could even wander around if he was so disposed... not that he likely would. So far the dragon was staring at the water and the boat as if he couldn’t figure out whether to kill it or run away, squawking in terror to hide behind Dilandau.

It was only with great trepidation that the dragon even set foot on the gangplank, though he quickly pulled his leg back and looked up at the melef towering over him.

“Come on moron.” Dilandau ordered. “Up the plank then you can eat.” The dragon sniffed at the plank, then the ship itself, not looking impressed with either. “Do not make me pick you up by the scuff of your neck and drag you on board. We need to cross and this is how we do it.” As if to demonstrate, the melef took several steps up the incline before turning around as Kamata gave a thoroughly pathetic squawking hiss. Again, a heavy clawed foot was placed on the plank, then nervously lifted.

“This is going to take all evening.” Van sighed, glaring at the audience who’d gathered, enjoying the show.

“You’re welcome to give him a push, let me know how that works out for you.” Dilandau shot back at him before returning his attention to the dragon. “Move it Kamata!” He barked loudly, his voice practically echoing with the speakers amplification. Recognizing the rapidly wearing patience, the dragon scrambled up the gangplank and then crouched down on top of the melef’s feet, making it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Van was pretty sure he’d never seen anything quite so pathetic but he knew better than to say anything. At least the beast was finally aboard and the two bodies on his back were still securely covered. Small miracles and all that. To settle Kamata, Dilandau dropped something at his feet which was snatched up quickly by the dragon and Van turned away before he could recognize that it was a human head the animal was now gnawing on. Ugh, trust Dilandau to find a pet just as deranged as he was.

Living mostly in a large valley surrounded by mountains, Van hadn’t come into contact with large bodies of water or the ships designed to sail upon them, but he was pretty sure that this boat was a decent specimen of a sailing vessel. Meaning that it wasn’t leaking or listing, despite the combined weight of dragon and melef.

The ships sails were down, but the three masts along it’s length looked more than ready to catch any wind that dared breathe upon the water. The deck itself was neat and clear of junk, though one of the massive hoists was currently loading several crates of cargo into the holds below deck, proving that they weren’t the only one’s making use of this sailing.

Men from the dolphin clan bustled about the deck, several bearing slave brands on their wide arms and almost all bore the marks of whip scars across their backs. Working alongside them were human crew, a blend of Freidian and Basrami, though most appeared to be mixes of the two, giving the human crew as a whole a dark tanned complexion with either brown or black hair. Several had their hair tied back in long braids while others had shaved their heads in Freidian fashion. Body art also seemed to be rather popular and everyone, even a few slaves sported tattoos on their nearly bare bodies. Much like with the wolfkin, simple kilts or light breeches seemed to be the popular clothing for the climate and Van, having grown up in the much more body conscious north found himself blushing quite a bit.

At least he felt somewhat reassured that none of the large muscular and half naked men moving about seemed to stir even a shadow of the interest he felt at the idea of Dilandau growing all sleekly sweaty as he worked. Either he was right in what he’d said to Hitomi, that his attraction extended to the dragonslayer and no further, or he was very picky in his tastes. Honestly, he wasn’t sure which would be better. Dilandau would be insufferably smug if he thought that he alone out of the entire male race managed to turn Van’s head. On the other hand, he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of not understanding such a basic part of himself. If there had been a potential to be attracted to other men, why hadn’t he felt it until now? Or, had his rivalry with Allen been just as much about wanting the knight’s attention as Hitomi’s? That was a worrisome thought.

“Ah, you would be Rhusha of the RedPaws!” A jovial voice boomed loudly, carrying across the deck with an ease that would make a sergeant take note. All heads turned as a stocky heavily tattooed man of middle age and mixed descent ambled over towards them, a wide smile on his face, displaying several gold teeth. The ferry business clearly was a lucrative one considering the wealth the man wore on his body. Gold hoop earrings, heavy gold chains and numerous rings adorned his thick fingers. His clothes were light but of fine make and while his head was shaved, he’d grown a luxuriously thick black beard which reached down to his navel and was braided together intricately then bound with gold clasps.

“I’m captain Norest and this,” He gestured grandly to the ship. “Is the Lady Tulesa! Grand old dame isn’t she?” He spoke the same garbled mix of freidian and basrami that the villagers used, allowing Van to pick up just enough of the words to make out what he was saying. At least Rhusha seemed to follow him easily and the beast man nodded his head, his posture relaxing slightly though was still alert.

“The pleasure is ours.” He replied politely in the same linguistic hodgepodge as the captain. “Not many would allow a dragon upon their vessel.”

“Bah, not many would be as rich as I.” The captain replied with a smirk, tapping the side of his nose playfully. “Anytime, any cargo, any price. That’s my motto and I stick to it. Besides, makes a hell of a story don’t you think? It ought to earn my crew a few free rounds when we hit port.” Van didn’t even want to know how much passage had cost them but suddenly he was deeply thankful for Dilandau’s utter lack of ethics. There was likely no way they’d have managed this with just the simple wares the clan had for trade. All he could do was hope that Rhusha had been a shrewd bargainer and still had coin left for his people.

“There are rooms below for passengers if you wish to make use of them and grub will be served once we sail. Hope you don’t mind fish. We have it in abundance.” A bejewelled hand gestured towards the gallery at the back of the ship. “The dragon will stay above deck for the duration of the trip. I will not risk his tail tearing through the hull. Besides, there’s a gentle wind and no sign of storm, so you’re in luck.”

It was just as well, Van honestly had no idea how they’d convince Kamata to go below deck.

“Dear gods... is that thing chewing on a skull?”

“Best not to think about it.” Rhusha cautioned, drawing the man’s attention away from the grizzly scene. “About those cabins?” A rather well polished stone was placed delicately in the captain’s hand, encouraging him to think about much more pleasant things and to Van’s relief, Norest dredged up a somewhat forced smile.

“Let nothing go to waste, that’s what I always say.”

“A wise phrase indeed.” The beastman agreed, allowing the captain to lead him below. Van didn’t bother following. He wasn’t about to let either Dilandau or the damn dragon out of his sight. Honestly, it was like travelling with two homicidal kittens, he never knew what trouble either of them was going to get into next.

Several other clan members remained above deck, proving that Rhusha wasn’t nearly as trusting as he appeared to be. Without a word of discussion, they’d spaced themselves out along the deck and were casually watching the docks for unusual activity. Curious, Van wandered over to one of them, a chatty female he’d struck a bit of a friendship with who went by the name Tar. Seeing him approach, she nodded her head in welcome and then resumed checking her new sword for any nicks or catches which might cause the blade to snap in a fight. Like many of the others, she’d adorned herself with a sort of piecemeal set of armour from the battle and wore it with pride. Van had to admit, she certainly looked fierce with the armoured shoulders and bracers, though likely was more than a little warm.

“We’ll be posting watches through the sailing.” She stated by way of greeting. “I’d suggest you and your mate flying above just in case any ships try to follow us, but those bright wings of yours reflect every bit of light there is. The lookouts would spot you and we’d be thrown off the ship. Dragons are one thing. Draconians are far less accepted.”

Nodding his head, Van noticed that they weren’t the only ship preparing to set sail and idly wondered how many were going to be tailing after them, preparing for an attack. Eyes in the sky would be invaluable, but Tar was right, they’d be bright as beacons up there.

“How big threat?”

“Larger than any of us would like. The ship at the end of the quay,” She made a slight gesture with her chin. “They’re pirates when the mood suits them. Still, I don’t trust any of these human ships. You never know a human’s loyalty, they live for lies and misdirection.”

“Not all.” Van couldn’t help but defend half of his heritage. “Most as decent as forest people, but some... yes some are dangerous. They spoil it for all.”

“Your words are getting better you know.” She chuckled softly and gave him a pat on the back. “You sound less like a cub every day you travel with us.”

“Hmph, might talk like cub, but fight like warrior!” Really, that statement had sounded far more impressive in his head. Now he just sounded like an actual cub trying to convince those around him that he was big enough to join a hunt.

“Words are important weapons to a warrior... or do you enjoy letting Nakahi do the speaking for you?” He had to shudder at that thought. Yeah, they were lucky that the RedPaws were as tolerant as they were or Dilandau could have gotten them killed rather quickly.

“Yes... learn words. Speak better, keep Nakahi out of trouble.”

“Hmph, good luck with that.”

He sat with her for several minutes in companionable silence, keeping an eye on the pirate ship as well as two others who were showing rather suspicious timing with their departures. Around him, the crew was almost finished loading the cargo and several began scrambling up the masts, preparing to set their sails.

 

By the time they set sail, the sun was well on it’s way towards the horizon and the Mystic Moon loomed heavy in the sky. Van had moved back to sit at the feet of the melef, leaning against Kamata who was still eyeing everything warily, especially once the ship gave that initial lurch and began moving out into open water. Honestly, the gentle rocking of the boat was rather comforting and he found himself looking up at the stars and smiling at the tranquility of the evening.

“I really don’t like this.” Dilandau murmured, pulling up the visor and looking down at Van. His face was hidden in the shadows of the armour, just in case anyone glanced over and saw him, but Van could make out the crimson glint of his eyes in the moonlight. “Freid isn’t exactly high on my list of places to go back to.”

“What about Fanelia?” Van already knew the answer, but he liked to hear the sound of Dilandau’s voice, especially when it wasn’t filled with overflowing confidence. It seemed more honest somehow, like he was seeing the real man behind the mask.

“Hmph, that’s the very bottom and you damn well know it.”

“It might not be that bad.” Van tried to assure the albino, keeping his voice gentle. “You have the melef now, so now one will see you unless you want them to.”

“Yeah, but I can’t stay in this thing forever. Eventually, I’m going to have to take a piss. Speaking of... don’t suppose you have a bottle or anything?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“What, you’ve never done it? I mean sure, you don’t want to take a piss in an Alseides, you’d be floating in it until they changed out the liquid metal... that could be weeks or months, depending on how much battle you saw, but this? Bah. Easy fix.” There was a long pause, but Van knew it wasn’t over. Dilandau clearly hadn’t gotten the reaction he’d wanted yet. “So what did you do when in Escaflowne? You were in that thing for hours at a time. I know this, I was chasing you down.”

“I held it.”

“Seriously? Man, all this time I was trying to figure out your one big weakness and all I’d had to do was just kick you in the bladder? Heh.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It really is when you think about it. I mean it had to have come up at least once.”

“You’re doing it again.” Van allowed himself a slight smile at the dragonslayers discomfiture.

“Doing what? Having to piss? I assure you, it happens with relative regularity.”

“Changing a topic and becoming vulgar the instant you’re uncomfortable. You know, there’s nothing wrong with showing a little vulnerability every once and a while. It’s not like I’ll think less of you.” There was a soft sigh from up above and a barely audible thump warning that Dilandau had likely purposefully banged his head on something in frustration.

“I’m not weak.”

“You’re also not made of stone. Look, we’re in this together to the end. I’m not about to leave you, you have to realize that by now.” Instead of scoffing sarcasm or an insult, he was met by silence and glanced over at the open face plate in concern. Standing up, Van faced the melef and held up his feather necklace, staring into twin glints of red hidden in the depths of the cockpit.

“I meant this, and I know you did too. Things aren’t going to change just because we have choices now. When we get to Fanelia, I’ll still be there with you.” Van glared at the machine, getting only silence in return. “Don’t make me climb up there and tell you all this face to face, because I’ll do it, no matter how stupid it is to climb up a melef while on a moving boat.” Of course Dilandau remained quiet. He likely wanted Van to fall and break something so he could call him a clumsy barbarian and laugh at his misfortune! Well, he’d show that pigmentally challenged bastard!

Grumbling under his breath, the king grabbed onto an edge of the armour and began to haul himself up the five costa tall machine. Hanging on tightly whenever the boat seemed to shift around them, causing his weight to shift suddenly.

It was a quick but exciting climb, but soon enough, the king found himself perched on the large shoulders of the melef, looking in at the dragonslayer who was leaning against the pilots seat and staring up at the stars.

“We weren’t strong enough Van.” Dilandau’s voice was soft, the bitter edge aimed inwards at himself. “Those mercenaries had us dead to rights. It was just dumb luck that I freaked out and managed to summon my men. If I hadn’t... the five of us... we’d be right back in those labs... or worse.” Pale lashes drifted closed and Van watched Dilandau grit his teeth in frustration. “I need to be strong enough to protect the people depending on me, and I would have failed! I can’t see my men die again Van... I really can’t... and now we’re heading right back to where it happened... where everything fell apart. If I wasn’t strong enough to save them back then, what makes me think that I can do it now?”

Oh.... alright, those were very legitimate worries and Van knew that a simple “it will all be ok” was probably the last thing the dragonslayer needed or wanted to hear.

“Di- Nakahi...” Yeah, likely not a good thing to use his real name on a ship bound for Freid. “Things are going to be different. We’ve grown, we’re wiser and older and more importantly, we’re working together. There’s won’t be another Freid for either of us. As for losing that last battle. We were barely armed, caught by surprise and I’d hate to be the one to break this to you, but neither of us are back to top form yet. We were also focused on keeping the cubs safe as well as Ignis and Irma.” Van took a deep breath then leaned forward somewhat precariously, reaching his hand into the cockpit and smiling as he felt strong slender fingers wrap around his own. “Besides, did you think that maybe we weren’t supposed to win? Maybe this was the best way for your men to return to you. Because of their actions, far fewer clan members died than would have if the fight had continued and you have to know that. That melef was tearing through them like paper.”

“I’ve taken down melefs before.” Dilandau growled, the grip tightening on his hand for a moment.

“Yeah, you have... when your anchor was in danger.” As much as he hated to bring it up, he couldn’t exactly skirt that particular issue. “I saw that fight... you were a monster, and not in a good way. If that had happened today, you could very well have cut your way through friend and foe to reach your prize. That wasn’t you fighting back then in that astorian clearing against those mercenaries, that was a weapon pure and simple and you deserve better than that. I want us to fight side by side in a proper battle, one where we’re not worried about little kids or innocent bystanders. I want us to be back to back in our guymelefs, conquering our enemies and claiming victory.”

“Then you don’t mind me teaching them?” And with that, Van realized that he’d walked right into the neat little trap Dilandau had spread out. The bastard knew that the king wouldn’t want to push the two survivors into becoming soldiers, but that was all Dilandau knew and it was likely bothering him knowing that neither Ignis or Irma probably had any clue how to protect themselves.

“I’ve fought as part of a team more often than not for the past two years.” Dilandau continued smoothly, his morose tone evaporating, becoming clever and cajoling while the fingers stroking Van’s hand felt almost teasing with promise. Yup, he was totally being manipulated, but really, he couldn’t bring himself to mind. There was logical sense behind Dilandau’s plan and considering what lay in store for them in this war, it really was a sensible option. Besides, they could always refuse to train if they wanted to, though Van had the rather distinct belief that they would be overjoyed to wield a sword in battle. After all, look at who their two “parents” were. Despite the shadows of the melef’s armour, Van could clearly make out the glean of Dilandau’s wide and brilliant smile.

“You can train them, so long as they agree to it, but on one condition.” He gave those fingers a little tug, making sure he had the dragonslayers full attention. “You teach me as well.”

Crimson eyes widened in shock at his proposition but Van continued on without missing a beat.

“I’ve never fought as part of a group. I’ve always trained and fought alone, even during the height of the war. Allen might have stepped in a few times to give me breathing room, but I could never imagine moving the way you and your men did. Teach us all to fight like that and I swear to you that the next time anyone tries to ambush us, we’ll tear them apart piece by piece and feed their carcasses to the dragon.”

Apparently he’d said something impressive because those ruby red eyes seemed to catch fire as they stared into his and the hand holding his pulled him closer even as there was a loud hiss of hydraulics. The chest plate opened up, revealing the dragonslayer within who was eyeing him with a frankly smouldering stare.

“Get in here right now Van.” Dilandau’s voice left no room for argument. “I’m going to show you how to be very very naughty inside a war machine.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit, I loved the first sentence in this chapter, it made me giggle my ass off. So, Van and Dilandau are finally misbehaving! Bout friggin time! Yes, some of the dialogue is utterly corny drivel. Come on, they're 16 year olds, all warm and fluffy in post coital bliss. They will hardly be spouting Shakespeare. Thank you to Drkstars/Ivorybyrd for naming Irma for me and dealing with me being a little neurotic over my unemployment.
> 
> So yeah, the dragonslayers are back!!! Also, yes, they're a tad bitter towards Van and won't be giving him any xmas cards or anything anytime soon. He's lucky he got off as lightly as he did, and that was only because Dilandau seems to need him.
> 
> I rather like the RedPaws, they're an interesting clan and will hopefully keep the boys grounded a little and out of serious trouble... but who am I kidding? Even they know that's a lost cause.
> 
> Yes, Dilandau is a little mopey and emo in this chapter. He's still dealing with a lot of things in his head and isn't too good with this whole caring about people thing. Again, I will point out that he's still a teenager and we've all had those moments at that age. Don't worry, the angst can't hold out against the power of his crazy and we'll be seeing more crazy trouble causing Dilandau soon enough.
> 
> Poor Van has totally bitten off more than he can chew with Dilandau being his "mate" and I don't think the guy has quite realized that. Right now, our happily homicidal albino has him blinded with the prospect of sex, but it won't be long before their tempers clash once again. Van will only be led around for so long after all...
> 
> Next Chapter: A coffee date between enemies, PIRATES!!! and repercussions for past actions. ooOOOooo


	13. Kiss me Kill me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen has an awkward coffee date while Dilandau and Van have fun sailing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vision of Escaflowne isn't owned by me, nor are the characters. I'll put them back when I'm done.  
> So, had a few days of NaNoWriMo burnout to recover from, but on the whole, I managed 121,007 words towards this story over the course of November! yay me! *falls over into a coma* I didn't get much writing done this week due to new job stress. By the time I get home, I'm pretty much a vegetable for the evening.
> 
> Anyway, still having a blast writing this story and I hope you're all enjoying reading it! Comments, theories and suggestions are always welcome so don't hesitate to speak up.

 

“What do you mean Zone of Absolute Fortune!?” Allen wasn’t panicking, he really wasn’t! He was just legitimately concerned for the sake of reality itself. At least it was small consolation that the legendarily unflappable General Adelphos appeared to be just as utterly stunned by the news. The two men shared weighted looks before Adelphos looked back at the various glowing machines and heaved a heavy sigh.

“I suppose it would be too much to dream that Captain Albatou not be at the center of some calamity or other.” He muttered almost to himself before looking over that Geetha, his eyes narrowing dangerously, causing the woman to take a nervous step back. “Yes, I believe that explanations are in order.” He rumbled, sounding about as pleased as Allen felt. “Concise explanations.” The general quickly added in just as Geetha opened her mouth to speak.

“I don’t know sir!” Regis protested honestly, interrupting his master as he noticed the growing look of impatience on the faces of both men. At least he looked just as shocked at the rest of them, but Allen was quickly reaching that point of not caring anymore. This boy was playing with far too many secrets than he was comfortable dealing with, and most of them seemed to concern what was going on with Dilandau.

“Something like this shouldn’t even be possible.” He looked over at his master for confirmation and she nodded her head emphatically. “The last time there was a large scale warping of fate, it took a power surge of near incalculable proportions, not to mention the sheer loss of life... There’s no way it could be recreated without the rest of the world knowing about it.” He seemed to truly believe what he was saying and though Allen was utterly furious with the youth and his half truths, he found himself believing this explanation. Of course, half truths seemed to flow off his tongue with rather remarkable skill. Still, there was someone else in the room who knew the truth, and wasn’t nearly as well versed in weaving the truth into a pretty picture.

All eyes turned to Geetha and the sudden silence weighed heavily in the room. There was no need to look around and see that all around them, the other sorcerers had stopped their various projects and were listening to hear the explanation. Not that Allen could blame them, this had the potential to affect everyone on Gaea. Seeming to follow the knights awareness, Adelphos glanced around, looking less and less impressed with current events with every passing second.

“Sir Allen, if you would be so kind as to accompany me to my office, I would like to speak with you some more while Lord Falafell and Lady Geetha investigate the matter further. Half information and unfounded hypothesis are worse than false facts. Do not speak to me of this matter until you are in full possession of what has transpired.” The two sorcerers nodded their heads respectfully and quickly focused on the chart in their hands, arguing in hushed voices between themselves.

The general began walking away, leaving Allen to either follow him, or stand there straining to listen in to scientific babble he couldn’t possibly hope to understand. Loathing how out of control of the situation he felt, he grit his teeth and followed Adelphos, hoping that this man, arguably one of the most dangerous men on Gaea might shed some light on the subject. Sweet Jeture, how had he managed to get so messed up with horrible people?

 

The office was as sparse and utilitarian as the knight had expected from the no nonsense man. It held just enough equipment and furniture to serve it’s function, and nothing more. The general clearly felt that the time and energy of those around him was better spent caring for the teeming oppressed and their unending list of problem. There was a decent sized desk with the paperwork neatly filed into various piles, several quills as well was the more advanced zaibach style “pens”. On the wall was a map of the region as well as one of Gaea with several points marked with pins, mostly centering around Basram, Zaibach and a few in Astoria. Several beautiful weapons rested on a nearby rack and there were several bookshelves, heavy with literature and assorted objects that Allen could only guess at.

“Have a seat Sir Allen.” The general gestured towards a wimple wooden chair by the desk as he walked over to a cabinet and opened it, pulling out a strange cylindrical device and pushing a few buttons on it before pulling a lever. A strange burbling sound filled the room, followed almost immediately by an unusual spell. It was spicy in a fragrant sort of way and had the knight sniffing the air with interest. “Would you like some jaffa?”

Glancing over, Allen watched as a strange and now aromatic liquid poured out of the cylinder and into a cup, thick steam rising up from it.

While Allen knew better than to accept anything from this rather crafty foe, generations of manners bred into him would not allow him to refuse a drink once offered and he found himself nodding his head before his brain could warn him otherwise.

“I would have thought you’d offer wine.” The knight remarked with feigned lightness, earning the faintest of smiles from the general who was pouring out a second cup and adding what appeared to be a thick looking cream to the liquid.

“You’ve been spending too much time around a certain soldier if you think that we survive solely on wine.” The cups were brought over, one placed neatly in front of Allen on a small tray with something that looked like dried fruit on the side. “This is jaffa, it’s a rather popular drink in this country and far easier to procure than wine. It also doesn’t carry any ill effects should you overindulge, save for a slight nervousness. It’s a mild stimulant with powerful oxidizing properties. Take a bite out of the fruit, then take a small sip. Chew them both together for the full effect.”

As if to prove that this wasn’t in fact some traitorous attempt at poisoning, the general took a small bite of the fruit, then a sip of the liquid, chewing thoughtfully and seeming to savour the taste for a bit before swallowing.

“It’s considered polite to offer a cup to guests.” He motioned for Allen to try the strange drink. “If it’s not to your liking then simply say so, I won’t be offended. Few outside of Zaibach care for it’s taste.”

Childish, implying that Allen would try it simply because the general had implied that he couldn’t handle it, that those of other nationalities simply didn’t measure up to strong zaibachi stomachs... Allen knew that he should just ignore the drink and the posturing behind it. This man was the enemy, they’d fought for over a year without ever once seeing each others faces. Here was one of the men behind what had happened to his sibling... one of the few who might have some of the answers he sought... dammit.

Though gaze never leaving those pale grey eyes, Allen took a bite out of the piquant fruit, finding the taste to be unexpectedly sharp and spicy. Raising the cup to his lips, he drew in some of the steaming liquid and found that it soothed the heat of the fruit and toned down the taste, creating a rather surprisingly rich combination of sweet and sour in his mouth. Yes, he could definitely see why this would be an acquired taste.

Allowing himself another small bite of fruit followed quickly by a sip of the drink, Allen felt that he’d made his point well enough and set his cup neatly down on the desk with the saucer before fixing the general with a level stare.

“It’s a most interesting drink, thank you for sharing it with me, though I doubt that is why you invited me here.” Yes, his manners tutor would be horrified at his blunt speech, but his patience had reached it’s end long ago. All he wanted now were answers, and so far all he was getting were more questions.

The general took another generous portion of his drink before also setting it down and studying the knight with those clever eyes of his.

“It might surprise you to know that I have often wanted to sit for a moment and enjoy a quiet drink with a warrior as respected as yourself.” He wiped his mouth neatly with the back of his hand. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect from you Sir Allen. You are a most intriguing man and reports regarding you vary widely depending on the spy.”

“And what has dear Lord Falafell been telling you?” There was no point in pretending that there wasn’t a rather impressive amount of bitterness in his voice. If there were three things Zaibach had always excelled at, it was technology, intrigue and treachery. Personally, he was quite sick of the latter two.

“He speaks well of you if you must know. You’re an honourable man who cares more for his remaining family than most would, especially given who that family is. Young Lord Falafell also believes that you’re a man of strong honour and that once your word is given, you will stand behind it no matter the risks.” The general leaned forward slightly, those piecing eyes of his narrowing. “He also says that you are a clever and cunning tactician, who even managed to earn the respect of a certain difficult to impress captain.”

“It all comes back to him doesn’t it.” Allen allowed himself a bitter smile which was practically mirrored by the larger man.

“Indeed, it often does.” Adelphos took another sip of his drink, this time without the fruit. “Tell me Sir Allen.” The cup was placed neatly on the desk though those grey eyes never left his. “How much do you actually know about the boy and the experiments he took part in?”

“Taking part in implies some form of consent.” The knight replied in a voice sharp enough to cut metal. “I know that my sister, Celena was taken as a child by Zaibach, that she was tortured for years and turned into Dilandau. Your foul sorcerers then warped and twisted his mind, torturing him badly enough that he still bears scars on his body and wakes screaming at night. You tormented him to the point that he doesn’t know how to trust, that he can’t stand being alone and understands nothing but violence and subjugation of ones enemies. You shattered him just as you destroyed my sister and now your disgusting sorcerers have stolen him away to apparently create more.” The chair creaked ominously as his fingers dig into the arms, nearly shattering the wood in their grip.

Closing his eyes, the knight took several deep breaths, struggling for self control. This was a brilliant and dangerous man in front of him. He was deep in enemy territory and anyone here would gladly see his throat slit if the general but gave the word. He couldn’t risk that.

“When I first met your brother, he was nothing but an experimental specimen.” Adelphos mused, his rough gravelly voice almost soft at the recollection. “There were several of them standing there in the cold room, buried under the weight of so many unfriendly eyes. He never so much as twitched. Those children... the oldest couldn’t have been more than ten... they might as well have been carved from stone for all the life they showed... except that one. Even without batting an eye, you could feel something about him that commanded respect.”

Allen shivered slightly at the mental image being presented and he had little trouble envisioning his brother standing there, utterly intimidated by a room full of Zaibach’s most powerful warriors.

“The Madoushi was explaining their experiment to us... at least, the parts they were willing to reveal.” The man smiled grimly to himself. “They claimed these children were to be the newest weapon in the Emperor’s arsenal, that they would change the face of warfare on a scale we couldn’t even begin to grasp.”

“The others, they couldn’t see past their pretty faces and slender builds. They only saw children standing there, a threat to no one... none of them bothered to look into their eyes.” The general couldn’t quite keep a shudder from going through him at the memory. There had been something in those crimson depths... something inhuman and deadly. Adelphos had never been a superstitious man. He believed in facts and figures, what he could see with his own eyes and understand with his quick mind. Over the years, he’d seen the decay already beginning in the Empire, spearheaded by the Madoushi and their foul experiments. They warped the world in unnatural ways according to their whims, redefining reality, often in horrifying ways. Still, it wasn’t until he’d looked into that pale child’s eyes that he understood the lengths of their madness and the void yawning beneath them.

“I watched a child of ten, unarmed and unarmed tear apart a seasoned veteran of many wars. A man I’d fought next to several times and had often commended for his prowess.” Allen stiffened at his words and the bleakness behind them. “In less than five seconds the man was destroyed and had the Madoushi not stayed the boys hand, there is no doubt that the man would be dead. Of course, death would have been a kindness, the man was crippled for life from his injuries.

“It was obvious that I would have to take the boy and any like him, if nothing else, to get them away from their masters or those who would create nothing but death in their wake.

“I gave the boy a purpose, I gave him men to lead and train and did what I could to reign in his darkest impulses... but Albatou is like a southern storm. Quick, brutal and destroying everything in his wake.”

“He is a child you sent into battle over and over again. What did you think would happen?” Allen couldn’t resist snarling softly, his disgust warring with his rage as he listened to the tale being told.

“No, he wasn’t a child. He never was. Don’t you see that?” The general actually looked ashamed over his words, but he didn’t take them back. “The boy is a weapon. Any softness was ruthlessly purged from him. The Madoushi were quite thorough in their training. Tears, laughter, any softer emotion or attempt at caring for others... they were all met with severe punishment.”

“You’re wrong!” Allen shot to his feet, quick to defend his brother, remembering the smiles, the playful banter between Dilandau and Gaddes, the way the dragonslayer had stepped in to save the crew and even how Dilandau had gone out of his way to save Van of all people despite their deep animosity. “Deep down inside, he’s still just a human boy, deeply traumatized yes, but still human.”

“Dilandau Albatou was trained to survive at all costs. He’s allowing you to see what you wish to see in him in order to ensure your continued protection.” The general replied, hardly shocked by the violence of the knights reaction. “Call it enlightened self interest if you must, but I’ve known the boy far longer than you have. He’s a berserker, a soulless weapon created using the cells of your sister’s body. The boy is no more human than the sword at your hip or the fire in a hearth.”

“We’re done here.” Allen turned and began heading towards the door, his stomach churning in disgust at the man’s ignorant words. “Lord Falafell thought that you and your people might have answers. Clearly he was mistaken about a great many things.”

“We have always been mistaken in regards to that boy Sir Allen. Come back and sit down. You are not required to approve of what I say, nor agree to it, but it would be in you best interests to listen.”

“To what?” The knight spun around, fixing his furious glare on the general, more than ready to draw steel and damn the consequences. “To you spout out your ignorance and lies?”

“And which of us do you think is the expert on Dilandau Albatou? I had him as my direct subordinate for nearly five years. I have seen him at his best and at his worst more often than I care to count. You’ve known him for a little over a year, most of that as enemies save for the three colours you shared his bed.” There was no gloating tone in his voice as he casually revealed the knight’s darkest and most shameful secret. It was simply stated as fact, no more or less important than the others, but it froze Allen in his tracks, the man’s face growing nearly white with shock.

“Did you think that I didn’t keep an eye on the boy? That I wouldn’t know his every thought and actions? Honestly Sir Allen, what happened between the two of you is of little concern to me, though it should be of great concern to you.”

“Are you threatening me General?” Allen’s voice was low and dangerous, sounding eerily like Dilandau’s own warning growl.

“Quite the opposite. I’m imparting vital information to you which might save your brother’s life.”

“Go on.”

“Captain Albatou is a weapon, whether you accept it or not, that’s what he was designed to be, and as such, like any weapon, he requires a wielder. Someone who controls him.” Allen blanched at the memory of those scarred wrists, the stark terror swallowing up the light in those ruby red eyes and the screams which tore the boy apart in his sleep.

“I am saying that I truly hope that upon his resurrection you were bedding the boy because if not, then when you see him again, I can guarantee that he will not be the Dilandau Albatou you believe to be your beloved though somewhat misguided brother. He will be your enemy and will slaughter you and anyone you care for.”

Allen walked back to the desk, hating himself for every step he took, wishing he had the strength of character to simply turn away and leave, but he couldn’t. He needed answers and despite the pit of madness yawning ever wider at his feet, he would only find them here... where the nightmare began.

“W...what do you mean?” His voice was little more than a whisper as he struggled not to remember the touch of hot fingers and whispered entreaties. Tried to forget the stricken look of desolation at his rejection and they way that Dilandau had glared at him with daggers in his eyes ever since. Bristling like an insulted cat whenever the two of them were together.

“The Madoushi made themselves a monster, but they weren’t fools. They ensured that it was a monster they could control. Certain commands were implanted into the boy’s mind, paths written into his very brain which would ensure that he was physically incapable of turning on his masters.

“If the trauma is great enough to cause him to shut down mentally, it will open up a doorway into his mind, leaving him... open to influence given certain criteria.”

“Those being?” The sick feeling in his stomach grew and Allen found himself sitting back down in the chair, wishing he wasn’t hearing this, but needing to listen.

“Lord Shroden, the Madoushi in charge of the program which created Dilandau Albatou was a vile man, sick in more ways than I can detail easily. Ordinarily, such a creature would never have been tolerated within our ranks, but the man was as brilliant as he was deranged and he somehow convinced the Emperor that his way was the only way to control the subjects... this one in particular. He became obsessive towards Captain Albatou, dangerously so to the point that I often did what I could to ensure the boy was beyond his reach, but it was never enough...”

“Did he....”

“Dilandau will obey the will of his lover. Not just any lover, but whoever beds him immediately after he’s been “shut down”. He will kill for them, act in their best interests and in a cruel twist of irony, it seems to calm him down, soothing his more volatile tendencies. The Madoushi were always very careful about who they allowed him to bond with, ensuring their complete and total control over him.

“If you’ve bedded the boy since his resurrection, then you have a hope of surviving what’s coming. If you haven’t, then I would advise you to be very careful in your quest to return him to your side. Lord Shroden was a most eager anchor for the boy and if he has reclaimed him, then I can assure you that Captain Albatou is quite firmly under his control once again.”

“Why....” Allen was barely aware of himself speaking the word, his head was reeling with the information and he felt dizzy with the implications. His bother enslaved... Dilandau had come to him, wanting him... but Allen had cast him aside, pushing away and possibly condemned the boy to mindless slavery at the hands of another. Sweet Jeture... it was nothing but state sanctioned rape that the general was speaking of. How long had this been happening? Was that why Dilandau suffered so many nightmares? Why he couldn’t understand the difference between love and sex? Had someone taken advantage of him? Oh sweet jeture... all the reports he’d gotten on Dilandau’s surprisingly exemplary behaviour in Astoria... his madness seeming to be a thing of the past... It had happened. If the general spoke true, then someone had not only used his younger sibling in a most foul way, but was using him like a puppet for their own machinations.

With that realization, the possibilities grew dark indeed. Van missing along with the dragonslayer, how easy it would be for Dilandau to drug Van, pretending to be his ally, or even to simply walk up behind him and knock him out, then welcome the Basram or Sorcerer spies into the room. He could have slit Palos’ throat with little effort as well and none would be the wiser... The general was right, he honestly had no idea what to expect now.

“If Lord Shroden has Captain Albatou firmly under his power, then the war could very well be lost already.” Adelphos looked up, his calculating eyes fixing on the map decorating the wall. “As I said, the boy is a most formidable weapon and the Madoushi didn’t lie when they claimed that those like him could change the face of war.”

“How do you mean?” Allen’s voice still sounded far away, his eyes stared at the wall, unseeing and dull as his mind struggled to absorb all that he was being told. “He’s an incredible warrior, even I’ll admit that, but he’s still just one soldier.”

“You’re a great tactician Sir Allen, you know how easily a single small detail can change the course of battle. Now add in several small details building up on top of each other, creating a chain of events so subtle that they often remain unnoticed until it’s far too late to stop the avalanche.”

“Speak plainly.”

“The boy survived the project he was a part of because his ability to survive the impossible was the strongest. Assassination attempts, routs, cave ins... He was near the heart of the Basram bomb yet still survived to battle... Fate favours the boy to an astounding degree that it’s almost supernatural.”

“He’s not one of those luck soldiers.” Allen’s gaze focused on the general at this newest claim. “I saw what happened to them, how their life was drained away by their powers, leaving them twisted and aged things.”

“No, not like them.” The general agreed. “Geesha could likely explain it better... if you had the patience to deal with her lectures, suffice to say that his ability isn’t nearly so vulgar. It’s a subtle shifting of the odds building up over time to present an implausible outcome as a viable possibility. While not as vulgar as the abilities of the Fortune Enhanced Soldiers, it’s potential is far more versatile. Now, picture someone with that ability leading a squad, imagine how quickly they would gain a following, how they would become practically untouchable... until someone with an ability to manipulate fate directly comes into contact with them.”

“Hitomi.”

“Yes, your girl from the Mystic Moon. She’s the antithesis of Captain Albatou, able to twist the fortunes of others according to her whims. Unfortunately for the Dragonslayers, their leader proved to be rather vulnerable to her machinations. Due to Captain Albatou’s unique energy makeup, whether because of his own ability to nudge fate, or the constant manipulations he’d endured during his creation, he had little defence against her.

He would have been a beacon to her, even cloaked in our technology and her abilities would have rendered his own unstable, putting his unit in serious danger in ways no one could properly anticipate. The Madoushi were making quite a study on it once we received word of her involvement and had Zaibach won the war, there is little doubt that her capture would have immediately become our main objective.”

Allen got back up to his feet and began pacing the room slowly, his might churning out bleak visions of the future, each one worse than the next and all of them terrifyingly possible.

“So you believe that this sorcerer... Shroden is planning to not only create a squad of soldiers capable of subtly altering the flow of battle, but having Dilandau lead them while Basram’s army backs them?” This was a worst case scenario if he’d ever heard of one. The Dragonslayers had been enough of a problem, facing a similar team, with supernatural powers and Basam technology would be more than the already battered Allied Nations could handle.

“There are two main scenarios we’re looking at.” The general stated flatly, watching the knight pace, making no move to stop him. It was better for the man to expend the nervous energy in such a harmless fashion rather than by venting his no doubt boundless rage in less helpful manners. “That is one of them, though it depends on Lord Shroden controlling Dilandau fully. He won’t trust the captain if he’s still showing signs of instability or wavering loyalty.”

“But you said that by.... by forcing himself on my brother, he could control him.” Allen spat out the foul words, seeing red for a moment as his hands balled tightly into fists.

“Yes, that is the most likely scenario, but I also know Captain Albatou. He’d been awake for a colour, give or take a few days. I have little doubt that he found a way to seduce some foolish young buck into his bed. Notoriety aside, the boy is beautiful, exotic and lamentably, still a teenager. Indulging his physical desires would be one of his top priorities.”

“And if whoever dared to seduce my brother is an enemy of this Shroden bastard, then that will enable Dilandau to resist his full control?” It was difficult to be so torn between protective brotherly rage and the desperate desire that this was what had happened. The idea of anyone taking advantage of his little brothers mental illness, of possibly forcing themselves on him... it was loathsome, but still better than knowing without a hope that he’d lost his beloved sibling once again to the forces of darkness.

“Either way, it’s not Albatou’s fighting ability which will be our greatest challenge.” Adelphos stated, pulling Allen out of his musings and back into the stark reality of their situation.

“Fate altering soldiers backed by what is now the most technological nation on Gaea and controlled by a madman, what could possibly be worse than that?” Venom dripped from Allen’s voice and he knew that he shouldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. It was foolish, shortsighted and downright dangerous, but this was simply too much bad information thrust at him too quickly and he hadn’t had enough time to absorb it all properly.

“There’s the real reason I haven’t called Captain Albatou to my side.”

“A reason other than the fact that he has the subtlety of a rampaging dragon?”

“Oh I assure you, he can be surprisingly subtle when properly motivated.” The general glanced once more at the map, noting the growing number of “hot spots” which had been marked carefully within the Empire where the first stirrings of rebellion were already taking root. “No, the danger is his sheer charisma and presence.” That brought the knight up short and sky blue eyes studied the general intently.

“Even without his abilities, Captain Albatou is a national hero to the Zaibach people. He stands as an icon of our superiority, our ferocity and our sheer determination to take back all that is ours and never bow down. When he speaks, others listen. When he fights, he brings back unparalleled victory in the name of the Emperor. He is a symbol of our wartime strength, rising up from nothing and as a mere child conquering more of our enemies than any seasoned warrior. More importantly, he achieved his victories with only other children at his side and carved a bloody path across the land in our name. His name is now synonymous with uncompromising strength, and the people remember that.

“Have no doubt that if he were to rise up with a battalion behind him, the people of Zaibach would flock to his banner in droves, believing that he will bring us back from where we crawl beneath the boot heels of the wars victors. If he rises up with an army behind him, a squad of soldiers with even a shadow of his abilities, not to mention his own ability to twist things in his favour... nothing will stand before him and absolute conquest.

“Lord Shroden won’t even require his cooperation, merely the illusion of it. Dilandau will become a figurehead of a war, and you can’t tell me that the idea wouldn’t appeal to his bloodthirsty nature.” Both men grew silent, their eyes locked on the map of Gaea, each one envisioning the war to come in all of its blood and violence. Neither wanting to give voice to just how dire the situation truly was. If Zaibach rose up against its “ruling body” and joined with Basram, joining their technological might, there would be nothing any of them could do to stop the madness. Gaea would be torn apart as effectively as if Dornkirk had successfully given rise to his twisted utopia.

“Then where does King Fanel fit into all of this?” The knight asked after a long moment. Van was the wild card in this, the unknown element. The fact that he hadn’t been left in a pool of his own blood was no doubt a huge piece of the puzzle and Allen had no doubt that if they could solve that mystery, many other answers would fall into place.

“It’s my belief that King Fanel is Captain Albatou’s newest anchor.”

Alright... that wasn’t at all what Allen was expecting to hear, and for several long seconds, he simply stared at the general, his mind struggling to understand the words. Clearly he’d mistranslated the statement, or heard wrong... or that jaffa swill was far more potent than he’d realized. Dilandau and Van? That was impossible...

Except that he’d been told that they’d been working together, that Van had allowed Dilandau to wield the royal sword of Fanelia and that the dragonslayer had even spared a life in that duel. The two were seen together often, and yes, while reports had stated that they’d often been arguing, they’d never gotten violent with each other... also... why in Jeture’s name would Van have been in Dilandau’s rooms late at night sharing a bottle of wine? Could they have....no.... no there was no way!

“They hate each other!” Allen protested, all too aware of how weak and desperate he sounded. “There’s no way they’d... have... do....” He couldn’t even say it!

“You’re allowing your emotions to colour your sensibilities.” The general admonished the knight. “Both are overemotional teenagers with a great deal of emotional energy invested in each other. I can easily testify towards Captain Albatou’s obsession towards Van and while I find it somewhat improbable, there is a rather good chance that he... forced the issue.”

“Are you implying that my brother assaulted the king of Fanelia?” Now he was furious all over again. Thankfully, there was just enough left of his mind to point on several rather huge problems with this possibility. “No, that wouldn’t have happened. Firstly, Dilandau was badly injured from the attack outside the village. My sergeant confirmed that Dilandau was in no shape to attack anyone. Also, Van would never work with anyone who’d done... that to him.”

“That works along with the knowledge of how Captain Albatou feels regarding assaults of a sexual nature. Given his history and his rather... brutal attacks on those who’ve perpetrated such crimes in his presence. So then, that leaves us with the possibility that the captain was not the aggressor, but rather the victim.”

“No, Van would never do such a thing!”

“You forget the animosity between the two of them. Dilandau slaughtered his kingdom and put it to the torch. He hunted King Fanel mercilessly, killing many people he considered allies. Greater men have done far worse when they found the power of revenge thrust into their hands at an opportune moment.”

“Dilandau would kill him for that.”

“No, Captain Albatou would worship him for that. He would have no choice but to obey remember.”

Allen looked away, horrified at the possibility. Could Van do that? Would he? Allen truly believed in the best of his friend, but not even he could ignore the constant demands for blood and vengeance, the hatred which had burned in Van’s eyes whenever he’d looked at Dilandau. Could he have sought revenge? A chance to put the arrogant captain in his place? No.... no he couldn’t believe that... there had to be another option... and there was. Only, it was the least probable.

“They.... what if it was mutual... what if Dilandau actually did seduce him? Hate is a powerful emotion, but they’re both teenagers, both lonely, lost and scared. It wouldn’t be the first time either of them had done something stupidly impulsive... actually, that was pretty much their modus operandi.” The phrase was High Zaibachi and one he’d learned from Dilandau himself, though he felt little need to explain that to the shocked general. Naturally, the man recovered in record time and nodded his head slightly, seemingly to believe that this might actually be the most likely possibility behind the strangeness.

“Indeed.” Walking back to his chair, Adelphos sat down and took another generous sip of the now cooled jaffa, making a slight face at the bitter taste. “In controlling the anchor, they control the weapon. They won’t risk killing King Fanel, not while the bonding is so fresh. It would render Captain Albatou quite unstable.”

He couldn’t quite keep from shuddering at the memories of the last time he’d seen the fierce captain recovering from the loss of an anchor. Lieutenant Lavariel had been a surprise, prompting a near mutiny from the Dragonslayers as their captain attempted to murder the strategos in full view of a hangar of witnesses. While it had been dealt with by the Madoushi, the damage to the boy’s psyche had been done, leaving him more violent and erratic than ever. Compounded with the loss of his squad shortly afterwards, Albatou had completely shut down, reverting to the dormant personality. He’d attempted to obliterate himself rather than endure his mind being torn apart by the grief he wasn’t emotionally equipped to understand.

It had been a foolishly wasteful act to dispose of Lavariel. The dragonslayer, while unexpected as an anchor was still fiercely loyal to Zaibach and his captain. More importantly, he’d stabilized the boy in ways Lord Shroden, with all his talks of control and subjugation had never achieved. The soldiers execution had been nothing more than a spiteful fit of jealousy, and in the end, it had cost them everything.

If the captain had bonded to King Fanel, then Lord Shroden and his allies would do everything they could to ensure the boy’s safety. In return, they would have the perfect hostage. More importantly, if the seduction had been mutual, then the king would then do everything he could to also keep Albatou safe.

“So.... King Van and my little brother are having sex....” Allen felt a decidedly unpleasant pressure beginning in his head just behind his eyes. Yes, it appeared that he was beginning to get a migraine. “What’s worse... I don’t know whether to be glad, relieved, horrified or absolutely enraged.”

Giving the knight a slight nod, General Adelphos rose to his feet and walked over to the cabinet he’d taken the jaffa out of. This time, instead of more of the foul liquid, the man pulled out a dark glass bottle and poured two generous glasses full of a golden liquid. The sharp smell of scotch filled the air as one of the half full glasses was held out to him.

“As you so eloquently put it, that seems to be your brother’s modus operandi. From my experience, there is only on way to deal with such revelations.” Raising his glass in a silent salute, he took a generous swallow. Unable to even think of any arguments to that logic, Allen followed suit. First he would drink. Then he would begin to work on his plans to castrate Van Fanel.

 

 

“Sweet Fate Fanel, I swear that if you don’t stick your cock in me soon, I’m going to be forced to kill someone.” Dilandau moaned against Van’s lips, causing the young king to practically squeak in shock at the utter vulgarity of the words. He paused for a moment, suddenly unsure of what he was doing, his hands still tangled in those silvery silken locks and his body pressed intimately against the dragonslayers.

Succulent lips parted, brushing against his own as they twisted into a taunting smile while molten ruby eyes glittered in a radiant mixture of heat and mischief. A long slender leg slid up the side of Van’s thigh, surprising the darker youth with the sheer level of flexibility required in such tight confines. Hot flesh brushed against him as their bodies were rubbed against each other in what could only be described as a deliciously obscene manner.

Fire burned inside him at the contact, consumed him and left him shuddering against the pale slender body of his tempter. A prisoner of sensation, all Van could do was seize those lips once more, their tongues warring against each other for dominance, neither giving ground as the tension around them grew. The air in the confines of the melef grew heated, heavy and so charged that had either youth eyes for anything aside from each other, they’d have noticed the sparks sizzling over their skin, tracing patterns against the metal of the cockpit.

“Do you always have to be so vulgar?” Van tightened his grip slightly in Dilandau’s hair, giving it a warning tug and earning himself a delighted purr of approval from the paler youth.

“Do you always have to be so timid?” The dragonslayer shot back, his eyes shining with eagerness and his body trembling with obvious need despite his teasing words. “Show me your fire Van.” Before the king could reply, his lips were seized once again and his breath stolen from his lungs by the searing heat of the kiss. Dilandau invaded his mouth with all the ruthlessness he’d come to expect from the fierce zaibachi youth, neither accepting or giving any quarter. He took what he wanted and dared the king to try to stop him.

The temptation was strong to simply give in and allow the plunder of his body... to welcome it and the ecstatic pleasure it would bring. Hadn’t the other youth already showed a masterful skill in playing his body like a virtuoso musician? Drawing forth sensation on levels he’d never dared to even dream existed with an uncanny ease that took his breath away, Van had been in awe. Of course, ever the predator, Dilandau was quick to press his advantage and seemed quite intent on dominating their lovemaking yet again, despite his taunting.

Skilled and slender hands were already tracing delicate patterns across his skin, finding all of those secret places Van had never known even existed and stroking them like harp strings, drawing forth the most incredible music with the king’s sighs. His entire body was humming with pleasure, glowing with his building need until nothing existed of the world outside of their tiny little space and the perfect contact between them.

Dilandau’s tongue continued to claim the inner reaches of his mouth, conquering his body with the utter confidence he’d almost always exuded since the two had met, leaving Van gasping and moaning against his lips in helpless surrender. His head was spinning in the most amazing ways, his heart beat so hard that it threatened to shatter his ribs, but mostly it was the pulsing ache in this groin that continued to pull at his attention. It throbbed mercilessly, hard as rock, weeping with need and twitching as it lay trapped between their bodies.

Van couldn’t quite shed the memories of how that deliriously hot mouth had enveloped his length, devouring it ruthlessly over and over again last night until he was positive that Dilandau was sucking out his very soul in spectacular fashion. He wanted to feel that again, to see what other wonderful mysteries his body hid from him, and more importantly, experience them for himself!

Could he do as Dilandau demanded? Did he dare take that last step? Years of lessons had been ruthlessly instilled in him on propriety and proper courting. He was a king after all and couldn’t very well run around sowing his oats, wild or otherwise with little care. Even kissing had been strictly forbidden, though he’d been sorely tempted with Hitomi, thwarted only by war, fate tampering and his own insecurities.

With Dilandau, it had felt so wonderfully natural. The constant awkward lectures he’d endured from Balgus faded away as the idea of waiting for a proper betrothal became meaningless. How could some empty political union possibly compare to this blazing wildfire of emotion? First the kisses opening up the door to impossibilities, then that hot mouth devouring his manhood in ways he’d never even imagined... did he dare take that final step?

“Stop thinking so hard about everything Van.” Dilandau broke the kiss for a moment, nibbling playfully on the king’s lip as he spoke. His hands drifted lower, stroking along the deeply tanned skin of Van’s hips, then slowly tracing along the lines of lean muscle to begin to unfasten the clip holding his kilt closed. “Just feel, lose yourself in the sensations and simply revel in the moment. All that matters is the now and how wonderful you feel.” The simple cloth parted and strong calloused fingers stroked along his heated length, sliding easily over silken soft skin as they coaxed loud whimpers and gasps from the proud king’s lips.

“Is... is that what you do?” Van moaned out the words in between kisses, his hips beginning to jerk as his body took over. “Live for the moment?”

“Mmmm is there something wrong with this moment?” The albino purred softly, the tip of his tongue teasing those lips one last time before tracing a slick path along Van’s jaw to his ear where he proceeded to nibble lightly on the lobe. How?!? Van couldn’t even begin to fathom how that could feel so good! It was his stupid ear! He touched it several times a day for Gaea’s sake but never had is sent electric tingles down his spine or made him shiver in pleasure. How did Dilandau have this much power over him!?

Words escaped him, preventing him from replying as he just closed his eyes, losing himself in the way his nerves sizzled and pulsed. This was magic in its truest sense, more powerful than destiny, fate or even the gods. What was between them was beyond description and Van couldn’t get enough of it.

They didn’t hear the warning shout of the lookout or the pounding of many booted feet on the deck as the sailors raced about screaming warnings to each other. What did any of that matter when compared to heated touches, whispered entreaties and building anticipation? It wasn’t until Kamata screamed loudly in rage that they pulled away from each other in confusion moments before there was the sound of something heavy impacting the water nearby hard enough to rock the boat significantly, jostling the two youths violently against each other.

“What the...?” Van murmured even as Dilandau swore rather emphatically under his breath, those burning eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Every friggin time!” The albino snarled angrily. “I’m being cock blocked by fucking fate! That’s what this is!” While the king had no clue what exactly Dilandau was referring to, he knew that the ship was obviously in danger. More importantly, the people on the ship were in danger, likely brought about by their presence.

He barely had a chance to fully register what was happening before Dilandau pulled a lever which opened up the cockpit of the melef, forcing Van to scramble to grab his kilt and quickly hold it closed lest he flash the entire crew of the ship. Opening, his mouth, he prepared to give the albino an earful but stopped when he saw the look on his lover’s face.

It was downright murderous in all the worst ways. Crimson eyes burned with pure malice and those kiss swollen lips were twisted into a vicious anticipatory leer. Dilandau wasn’t even looking at him, he was staring off over the bow of the ship at the dark shape gliding across the water towards them, visible only by the lack of reflected moonlight on the water.

“Dilandau...” Van began, his voice cautious as old well honed instincts flared up, warning him that just because the pale youth was acting in their combined interests didn’t for a moment mean that he was either sane nor safe to be around. The bloodthirsty warlord still lurked just beneath the surface and was ready to tear into their approaching enemy.

“No.” The dragonslayer replied, never taking his eyes off of his prey. “I’m not sparing them. I’m not taking prisoners and I’m not going to show them mercy.” Anger flared behind those words along with a twisted childish glee. “They chose their deaths when they decided to follow and attack us.” His leer turned into a face splitting grin and slender fingers which moments ago had caressed his flesh with heated tenderness tightened around the controls of the melef as he drew his axes with smooth precision. “Hop out Van, I can’t fight with two of us in here.”

It wasn’t a request and the king had no doubt that if he didn’t move away, he’d be kicked out rather unceremoniously. Rather than argue pointlessly, Van held onto his dignity, gripped his kilt a little more tightly around his waist and carefully lowered himself out of the machine, doing his best not to fall as he struggled to do it all without flashing the crew.

“Surrender the dragon and you’ll escape with your lives!” A voice called out over the water. Moments later, another cannon fired, sending a thick plume of water over the deck in clear warning.

“Yeah? How about you surrender and I’ll ensure your dead before I feed you to the dragon.” Dilandau yelled back, snapping the cockpit hatch closed the instant Van was clear. “Fight, and you’ll be begging for mercy as his jaws close around you!”

“Your mate isn’t the most subtle of creatures.” Rhusha murmured to Van as he appeared at the king’s side along with a contingent of wolf clan warriors, all armed and prepared for battle. The beastman made no comment towards Van’s barely held up clothing nor his obviously tousled appearance, though he did give the melef a nervous look as the machine shifted it’s stance slightly, testing it’s weight on the deck.

“Did I mention that he’s an insane battle crazy idiot?” Van replied, raising his voice just enough for Dilandau to hear him. Not that the dragonslayer gave indication that he did. Instead, he slid the axes against each other, creating a cascade of sparks which had to look rather ominous to the approaching ship.

He desperately wanted to climb back up there and slap some sense into the other teenager, but that would only make matters worse. His skills would be much better put to use calming down the damn dragon who was snarling and snapping at anyone who came within reach, growing more agitated by the second. It didn’t matter if it was Dilandau’s blood lust, the fear of the crew or simply the impending battle, but any moment now, the damn thing was going to attack someone and they’d have a blood bath on their hands.

Van moved towards the dragon, pushing aside his anger and worry, clearing his heart and his head of negative emotions the way Folken had shown him.

“Hey Kamata, you need to calm down. One battle crazy moron in the family is enough.” He kept his tone of voice low and reasonable, even when the lethal barbed tail slashed over his head, coming dangerously close to decapitating him. The tip grazed the mast, cutting deeply into the wood and sending a shower of splinters flying across the deck. Several sailors cried out in fear, unsure of who was the greater threat, the beast or approaching pirates.

Only the wolf clan remained calm, simply taking a few steps back, wisely giving the scared dragon room. Not that the dragon seemed to care. He continued to shriek and scream loudly, long razor sharp claws digging into the planks of the deck and his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, spraying spittle with every sharp jerk of his head. Naturally, Van got hit in the face with a generous splash but he didn’t dare take his attention off of the beast to wipe it away. Instead, he continued to slowly approach until he could reach out a hand and gently press his palms against those tough warm scales.

“Come on Kamata.” He murmured. “Show that idiot that at least one of you knows how to behave.” The huge head swung around so that Van was staring deep into those slit pupil yellow eyes as Kamata once more gave an ear splitting shriek, displaying a mouth full of sharp conical fangs. The sound was deafening and destroyed the king’s ability to hear anything for several long seconds as his ears rang, not to mention the breath. They were really going to have to do something about that.

Having loudly and emphatically expressed his displeasure, the dragon then headbutted Van in the chest. The movement was likely intended to be gentle, but the hard nubs of his horns coupled with natural draconic strength shoved the king back several feet and likely bruised many of his ribs.

Gritting his teeth at the pain, Van reached up and wrapped an arm around the dragon’s neck, tucking his head in close and rubbing his knuckles across the beasts temple.

“It’s alright.” He murmured softly into the nearest ear. “No one’s going to hurt you or your siblings. We won’t let them.” Glancing over at the melef, he saw that Dilandau was couching slightly, the axes held at the ready as the enemy ship moved closer preparing to board. Waves rocked the ship causing the dragon to hiss loudly, giving voice to his growing anxiety. “yeah... I hear you... no way is he crazy enough to try it... not even he’s that nuts...”

Even as he spoke the words he realized that he was gravely mistaken. The melef leaped forward, taking three long steps before launching itself into the space between the ships. The space was too great, there was no way an armour could jump that far no matter who was piloting it, and if he missed... when he missed... the weight of the metal would pull him down into the depths.

“DILANDAU!” Van yelled, forgetting the dragon for a moment as he lunged towards the charging armour, reaching out a hand as if he might somehow have the power to stop the inevitable. Kamata yowled loudly alongside him as they both watched the armour drive it’s last step into the deck, splintering several boards beneath it’s weight before it launched itself into the air, gaining impressive height and somehow spinning with uncanny grace like a dancer. The melef’s momentum and spin gave it extra lift and distance, leaving everyone staring in silent shock for a moment at the sheer beauty of the oncoming death.

That moment was all the pale captain needed and his arms spread out wide, slowing his momentum as the heavy feet slammed down into the deck hard enough to shatter boards, momentarily trapping the melef’s legs. This did little to stop the bearer of death incarnate as the axes lashed out before it had even landed, slicing through several pirates as if they were little more than air. Bloody mist sprayed in all directions as screams erupted across the deck. Van could make out the shape of men racing about, piling over each other as they tried to get out of the path of the lethal weapons.

Their anticipation for an easy kill had doomed them before the battle had even started however and the pirates had all been gathered together on deck, in preparation of boarding. Packed in tightly, they were left with little room to manoeuvre or escape. Many had been crushed by the initial landing. Their shattered bodies lay either on the deck, or slowly oozing through the boards into the layers below from where they lay trapped beneath the heavy feet.

That all too familiar and chilling laughter echoed across the water, enhanced by the machines speakers, it made Van’s stomach clench in dread as his mind screamed at him to run, to fly away and leave the doomed behind him to die. He could feel the madness wash over him in palpable waves, growing stronger every time they broke against him, calling to him, demanding that he join the carnage. _These were the enemy, they want to hurt your family._ He could almost hear the voices croon. _Take up your sword and_ _defeat_ _them! Make the waters run red with their blood! Drink in their fear, their terror, let it make you stronger! Death is your weapon! Chaos! Carnage! Unleash it on those who would stand against you!_

Power sizzled through him, promising every dark dream that had ever brushed across his soul, calling to those cruel and violent parts of his psyche and urging him to give in. He could feel his nerves catch fire and felt the tug across his back as his shining wings erupted outwards, bathing the battle with softly glowing feathers. Dimly, in some distant part of his mind, he felt something stir. A finger twitching, a hand clenching... an awareness awakening.

NO! He couldn’t give in to the madness! Realization of what he’d been about to do flooded his mind, severing the connection and pulling him back into the harsh cruelty of his present situation. At one point, he’d drawn his sword, his wings were already spread, ready to hurtle him towards his enemies in order to tear them apart at his partners side.

The last time he’d succumbed to that madness, he’d torn apart the Dragonslayers, he’d become a literal demon made flesh and none had been able to stand against him, not even Dilandau himself. Over and over again, he’d cut a path of death through anyone in his way. Friend, foe, it hadn’t mattered, so long as he could reach the albino warrior and tear him apart... Now it was happening again and the very realization sickened him beyond words.

Aghast at his actions, he physically dropped his weapon and backed away, shining wings snapping closed and wrapping around him defensively as he looked around with wide eyes, trying to take stock of the situation.

Kamata was gone, having leaped across the distance between the ships and was now joining Dilandau in the carnage. His shrieks mingled with the insane laughter until it was impossible to distinguish between the two. It seemed as if the pale captain had abandoned the melef armour once it had become obvious that it was stuck and was now attacking the crew openly, cutting a bloody swath across the deck. The way he moved in perfect synchronicity with the dragon was almost mesmerizing to watch as the two weaved around the attacks of the other, dispatching their enemies one after another with wild abandon.

Both were stained with blood, painting them both liberally with crimson, though neither seemed to mind. The pirate crew on the other hand looked as if they’d found themselves right in the middle of a waking nightmare. Between the mad albino and the dragon, there was only death. Many of the pirates chose to dive into the black depths of the water in order to escape... most didn’t resurface. Those who did swam like mad for the ferry, using their daggers to climb up the side of the hull, screaming for mercy with every breath they took.

These men were quickly subdued and bound with rope but little else seeing as the crew of the ferry was also too busy staring at the slaughter taking place only a short distance away. Their eyes were wide, their jaws slackened as each and every one of them wondered at how they’d so blithely welcomed Death himself upon their ship.

“Th... that’s Dilandau Albatou.” Captain Norest seemed to appear at Rhusha’s side, looking as aghast at the massacre as the rest of his crew. “You brought Dilandau Albatou onto my ship.” His voice was flat with shock though his eyes were wide and unblinking. “What’s stopping me from turning him in once he’s finished with those pirates? I could retire off the reward and still leave enough for three generations of descendants to live like kings.”

“Do you truly believe that you could hold him captive?” Rhusha managed to tear his gaze away from the carnage to glance over at the ferry captain. “Gidaru means nothing to the dead.”

The captain’s dark eyes flicked over to Van who was still staring at horror at the carnage, his sword several feet away on the deck, forgotten. If the pale youth was Albatou, this made the dark teen King Van, the missing Fanelian monarch... and a draconian to boot. He’d be wealthy beyond his wildest dreams for this capture. Enough for ten generations or more. He’d be a legend, his name remembered throughout history... no. The beastman was right. He’d never survive to see land if he harmed either of them. Even now, he could almost see the endless legions walking along the Paths of the Dead and knew that it was all too easy to set foot upon that road. No, he had enough wealth. Some coins simply weren’t worth the risk.

“When we make land, you disembark and never set foot on my ship again. Your clan is no longer welcome aboard.”

“Understandable.” The clan leader replied evenly, hardly bothered by the ultimatum. There were other ships and other paths for his clan. “Though I trust you will not broadcast their involvement.” He advised, the warning clear in his voice. “For your own sake. Death follows those cubs. You can smell it on them. Don’t draw it’s attention lest it carry you away.”

“The zaibachi brat is worth a fortune, even information of his whereabouts will fetch me a pretty coin or two.”

“You sell your soul too cheaply, but in the end, the choice is yours.”

“And my crew? You know that sailors gossip.” Rhusha turned his attention back to the battle, noting how blood spilled steadily over the side of the ship, painting the hull with streaks of crimson which glittered ominously in the moons light.

“Then they will die. The choice is yours captain. Those two are running from something... do you truly wish to face that which would make Zaibach’s Crimson Demon run?” With that said, the wolfman walked over to Van, deliberately letting his feet scuff the deck so the king would hear him approach and not be startled. He knew that the captain would stay quiet, and likely take great pains to keep his crew on board the ship at port. Still, word would inevitably get out and they would have to move quickly to avoid whatever dread enemy stalked their path.

Picking up the fallen sword, Rhusha carefully extended it towards the king, handle first and offered a faint smile when the cub gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement though his eyes remained locked on the continuing slaughter.

“He’s not going to change is he.” It wasn’t a question and the wolfman wasn’t sure if his opinion was even honestly wanted. Even so, he looked over at the pale figure and dark dragon moving in tandem, cutting down the survivors even as they tried to retreat, taking a truly demonic joy in in the killing and making the beastkin shudder slightly.

“Is it necessary that he does?” Rhusha finally asked, feeling the blade gently removed from is hands and hearing the soft sound of the weapon being sheathed. “He is Nakahi. No more no less. More importantly, he is the mate you love is he not?”

“He’s the one who destroyed my country.” Van’s voice was flat and emotionless, his attention still fixed on that beautiful and graceful body which practically glowed in the moonlight despite the dark blood threatening to blot out his light.

“It is brave to travel with the volcano.”

“Brave? Or stupid.” Van’s hands clenched into fists as he remembered how only half an hour ago he’d held the dragonslayer in his arms, tasted his lips and felt as if the entire world was utterly perfect now that they were together. He’d been blind to the danger the albino represented. In the depths of their living nightmare, he’d allowed himself to forget just how vicious his lover was.

“They are often one and the same.” The clan leader said softly. “It is something for future generations to look back on and decide. Hindsight is always perfect, but for us living in the now? All we can do is work with what we feel is right. You should not be asking yourself if either of you can change for the better or worse. The answer will always inevitably be yes for both, after all, we are shaped by the events around us just as much as by what is in our hearts. What you need to ask yourself is if you truly love him for all that he is, and if he can do the same for you.”

“What if he can’t?” Van found himself asking, his voice sounding small and worried, reminding himself of a child seeking reassurance. He wanted to glance up at the tall wise beastman, but couldn’t tear his eyes off of the massacre. Gods of Gaea help him, but even amidst all of the violence, he still found the shining albino to be beautiful beyond words.

“I have seen him fight and kill for you.” Rhusha murmured gently. “I have seen him hold you in his arms as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world, yet I have also witnessed him willing to risk everything, even your love to protect those who could not protect themselves. There is a great darkness inside him, so much so that I’m half convinced that he carries the summer sickness inside him. He truly is an Iron Fang, and they are not called the Mad One’s lightly. Their viciousness is legendary amongst our people and most would do well to avoid them.

“The darkness he carries within is hear is one which few would dare to look upon let alone touch, but you have touched it haven’t you? You’ve seen him for what he is and he has seen you for yourself. After taking each others measure, you must now decide your paths. I cannot tell you which one to walk. All I can do is promise to stand by you two and honour your choices.”

“That wasn’t really an answer.” The king murmured, tearing his gaze away from the pale god of death to glance over at the beastman for a moment, wondering if he was being mocked.

“It wasn’t much of a question.” Rhusha replied. “Besides, your heart has already chosen your path, it is only your head which is taking it’s time worrying about what will be rather than what is.” The edges of Van’s mouth twitched slightly in the faintest hint of a smile before he turned back to watch Dilandau calmly cut the head off a man kneeling in a pool of blood, begging for mercy with sobbing cries. He winced slightly as the sword swung, freeing the head from the rest of the body, allowing it to roll across the slick deck and fall into the water below.

He knew he should be disgusted and horrified. Part of him was, he supposed, but it was distant, pushed away and sealed in a box in the back of his mind, muted by the horrors he’d still so recently endured. Much stronger was the knowledge that these pirates had threatened his young family, his friends... they’d ignored the warnings and placed them all in danger. They’d made their choices, and Gods of Gaea, he’d made his. Now he had to live with them.

“You don’t seem at all surprised to learn who we really are.” Van finally gave voice to the last niggling questions niggling at his mind. “How can you be so calm? He’s a war criminal who murdered hundreds.”

“He’s Nakahi to us, and you are simply Van.” Rhusha shrugged. “We know the name Dilandau Albatou as well as the name Van Fanel, but they are little more than that to us. Simply names attached to deeds which have little to do with us. Humans have killed humans since life began on Gaea, and they will continue to do so long after we’re gone. Your stories have reached our ears and we know of both your deeds, for better or worse, but both of you have treated us fairly and with more respect than most.

“Granted, I must admit... neither of you look how the stories describe you. I pictured you both... bigger.”

“Yeah...” Van couldn’t help but sigh. “We get that a lot. Who knows?” He added, dredging up a bit of a weak smile. “This far south it might work in our favour. People will be looking for two huge hulking warriors, not...well... us.”

“Hey Captain Norest!” A sharp clear voice called out across the distance between the ships. “I found you a nice boat to add to your collection. It’s a little dented and sticky, but still floats well enough... though you might want to wash the decks off before the flies come.” Dilandau sounded smugly amused at his victory and Van could see him leaning insolently against the dragon, idly polishing his sword blade, using the jacket of some unfortunate soul. “This ship and it’s contents are all yours by right of conquest correct?”

Van turned to look over at the captain who looked as if pulling closer to the ship and allowing the albino and dragon to board was about the last thing he wanted to do, but those words lit the spark of avarice in the man’s eyes, and had likely been the intention.

“I’ll naturally expect a small finders fee for my efforts.” The dragonslayer continued calmly, walking up to the gunwale, his crimson eyes fixing on the captain’s with unflinching ferocity, openly daring the man to deny either of his claims. “Do you have any objections?” As he spoke, he leaned forwards slightly, the moonlight glinting on those eyes, highlighting their inhuman glow, causing more than one man to shudder in terror as words began to spread as to just who their pale passenger was.

“Take what you want.” Captain Norest replied, and to his credit, his voice sounded strong and firm despite the fact that Van knew that he was shaking in his boots. “Your offer is generous and accepted.”

“I have to hand it to your mate.” Rhusha murmured to Van as they watched the crew of the Lady Tulesa hook the other ship and begin pulling the two closer together. “He certainly knows how to bribe someone.” Van declined commenting on what he considered to be a foul practice of raiding the fallen. Sure, it had helped them immensely, and clearly still was, but it left a bad taste in his mouth. Speaking of....

“I’m going to head across.” The king warned the wolfman. “If he finds their wine stores, we’ll never get him out of there sober.” Granted, he had vague memories of enjoying his time with a rather dunk Dilandau, but seeing as how that had ended with their capture and subsequent torture, he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. At least not until they were well and truly safe.

Without waiting for acknowledgement, Van spread his wings and took off, easily covering the space between the ships and doing his best to ignore the awed and fearful gasps of the crew. He could already feel several of them staring with wide eyes and just knew that they were clutching fearfully at various protective charms or making warding signs at his back.

The deck was just as disgusting as he’d expected and he could feel the bloody gore squelch beneath the thin lab shoes he still wore, ruining them beyond repair almost instantly.

Before he’d even fully gained his footing, Kamata was headbutting him happily, pleased to be reunited with the dark youth and the dragon shoved a severed arm at him, the appendage gripped in his bloody jaws, obviously intending to share the disgusting treat. Bile rose up in the kings throat due to the stench permeating the deck, and the feel of cooling dead flesh being pressed against his arm repeatedly. Sweet gods of Gaea, when had his life gotten so twisted?

Reaching over, he gave the dragon several rough scratches around his ears and then risked a glance over at Dilandau who was practically preening in the middle of all of the carnage. Knowing that the albino was expecting praise for his rampant act of violence, Van heaved a little internal sigh and walked over to the proud dragonslayer.

“Are you hurt at all?” He found himself asking when what was really going through his mind was “What were you thinking!?!?” Though that answer was perfectly clear. Dilandau hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d simply seen a target and chosen to attack with little regard for the situation, the odds or even something as nebulous as common sense. Really, should he even be surprised at this point?

“I’m fine.” The dragonslayer scoffed, closing the distance between them, pausing only long enough to kick a severed head out of his way. Van did his best not to look at the face twisted by pre-death agonies as it rolled past. “Those idiots were too busy shitting themselves to pose any sort of threat to me.”

“The captain is terrified of us now.” The king glanced back at the ship, noticing how most of the crew was still standing there staring at them, Norest included. At least a few made some effort to hide their various wards or religious paraphernalia, out of fear of offending the “demon.” Dilandau obviously noticed this because the fire in those crimson eyes smouldered warningly.

“Ungrateful bastards.” He grumbled, flashing then a vicious sneer before pointedly turning his back to them. “I saved their useless lives tonight and made them all rich in the process.”

“Just be glad that there’s only about two more hours of sailing before we hit land. Those men won’t have enough time to work themselves up into any sort of true stupidity, but seriously Dilandau, you need to be more careful.”

“Careful of what? This cannon fodder?” The dagonslayer gave one of the corpses another kick and Van flinched at the disgusting squelching sound. “I was slaughtering chum like this before I was ten. These fools were nothing. Practice pells would have given me more of a workout.”

“And their captain?”

“Who do you think I landed on?” Dilandau grinned malevolently, glancing back at his melef and the disgusting mass of meat beneath it. “No discipline at all, they folded the instant he died.” Really, Van couldn’t blame them, watching your leader be crushed beneath the feet of a melef had to be rather morale destroying. “Now come on, let’s get what we need from these pirates and then let good captain Norest claim his prize.” Boldly taking Van’s hand, Dilandau pulled him towards the yawning portal leading below deck.

Van had to admit that he was more than a little curious as to what Dilandau was after. The dragonslayer had hardly seemed the sort to be after stolen riches and loot, besides, it wasn’t as if they could really travel with much at the moment. Everything they had needed to be easily portable.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” He found himself asking, staring openly at the dark oily wood surrounding them, trying to figure out what half of what he was looking at was for. It was an entirely alien world down here on the ship and Van had no problem with admitting that he was well and truly lost already.

“Not really, but I’m figuring that the captains quarters are likely around here somewhere by the back of the ship.” Dilandau replied. “I’ve only been on water ships twice before, but they seemed to follow a similar design. After that, I want to see what food they have. If anything is preserved, we might as well make use of it. If we’re going to be crossing the Wasting, I want us to have enough to see us through in decent condition. Don’t forget, we’ll have Kamata and he’s going to need more food than the rest of the clan put together.”

That made a surprising amount of sense actually and Van found himself nodding his head in agreement, though really, he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of rummaging through the deceased captains belongings. He had enough ghosts mad at him already.

It took them a few tries to find the captain’s cabin, though Van had to admit that he was more than a little shocked at the sheer amount of loot stuffed into the various rooms. He’d have figured that they’d have kept it all in the hold of the ship. It sort of made him wonder what they were keeping down there that would take up so much room?

When they finally found the aforementioned cabin, Van could sort of see why Dilandau had made it a priority. It was sumptuous in the extreme, making it obvious that these pirates enjoyed a rather lucrative business in robbing the various ferries and cargo ships to sail the Nostramos sea.

There was a large and surprisingly elegant four poster bed which took up a good chunk of the room and didn’t seem at all practical despite the enticingly soft looking pillows and thick comfortable sheets. A dresser and wardrobe, not to mention a large table bearing a map of the Nostramos and Silent sea. Various safe ports had been marked on it as well as favoured shipping lanes.

Paying little attention to the maps, Dilandau instead headed straight for the wardrobe and opened it up, pulling several articles of clothing out and holding them against himself. Most were cut in the style of Freid, meaning loose blouses and pants which tightened at the ankles and wrists. The cloth was light and airy though simple in design, relying more on ornaments than fanciful cuts. Naturally everything was too large for him, the captain apparently having been a man of average height but decent girth. Undaunted, the albino set aside several pairs of pants and loose shirts, even a few jackets were placed in a neat pile.

“Planning a fashion show?” Van couldn’t help but ask, more than a little confused. Dilandau chuckled softly and pulled out a pair of rather nicely tooled leather boots and held them against his feet, taking their measure.

“The more skin I have exposed, the more easily I’ll burn.” He replied, still riding his slaughter induced good mood. “Personally, I’d rather avoid that. Also, we’re about to head into the rainy season here so I’m figuring that something more substantial than a kilt might be necessary. Unlike the wolfclan, we don’t have nice thick underfur.” He grinned over at Van and tossed the king a rather nice looking blouse and surcoat. Catching them easily, Van did a bit of a double take. Was that silk!? He’d never owned anything silk before! It had always been too extravagantly costly for his personal tastes, though he had to admit, it felt gorgeous against his skin.

“We also need clothing for Ignis and Irma.” Dilandau continued, smirking as he watched the king run his fingers over the silk cloth. “I doubt either of them are going to want to wander around naked.”

“Next are we going to visit the armoury and make sure they have swords as well?” Van meant it as a bit of a joke but Dilandau nodded his head in agreement.

“Yes, though I wish they were awake so we could find out what weapons they preferred. Have you ever tried to teach swordsmanship to someone who naturally prefers the battleaxe? It’s a pain in the ass.” As he spoke, he found a jug of water with accompanying basin and immediately began washing the blood off of his body, seeing no reason to ruin perfectly good clothes if he didn’t have to. Oh! Rose scented water! Lovely.

Any statements Van might have made were immediately silenced as Dilandau pulled off his kilt, shamelessly baring delectable pale flesh for the young king. All Van could do was stare in shock, both at the abruptness and the sudden surge of desire which tore through him, reminding him of their earlier aborted tryst.

For nearly a minute, he watched in silence as the dragonslayer washed away the evidence of the slaughter, seemingly oblivious to the hungry stares though Van knew better. There was no mistaking those sly sidelong looks he was being given, or the way Dilandau arched his back, showing off the lean lines of his body and the beautifully rounded curve of his buttocks.

It came as no surprise when Van’s control finally broke and he grabbed the albino, pulling that gorgeous body tightly against his own and seizing hot lush lips ruthlessly. Rather than fight him, Dilandau seemed to melt against his body, welcoming him with every touch and returning the kiss with unrestrained passion, moaning softly in need. The sounds, the touches, they all encouraged him to keep going, to push past that last boundary and join themselves together perfectly. Van wanted to. Oh sweet gods of Gaea he wanted to so much that it hurt and when Dilandau twisted his body, throwing the king down onto the soft bed, then straddled him moments later, all he could do was stare in rapt wonder. His hands slid up along sleekly muscles thighs as his eyes seemed to lock on that turgid shaft rising up from it’s nest of silvery white curls, pale, proud and growing a darker shade of pink with every passing second. It was beautiful, like fine porcelain and he couldn’t help but reach out and touch it.

“Yessss, oh yes Van.” Dilandau hisses softly, his hips rocking in tight circles, pressing against his own groin and causing his already half hard flesh to rise up boldly between them, demanding attention of it’s own. Grinning wickedly, the dragonslayer made short work of Van’s kilt, exposing the much darker shaft of his once rival and all but drooling as he beheld its quivering length. “Don’t stop.” He murmured in pleasure, his own slender fingers stroking Van’s penis, pressing it against his own and allowing silken soft flesh to stroke him with every twist of his hips. The feeling was electric and sent sharp jolts of pleasure through both of their bodies as heated gasps filled the room.

It felt so different doing this on a soft bed in a private room, knowing that they wouldn’t be overheard, the soft sheets sliding over slick skin. It added to the intimacy of the moment.

 _“_ _You’re on the bed of a dead man.”_ A voice whispered in the back of Van’s mind. It sounded suspiciously familiar, though while he couldn’t quite place it, the tone of judgmental disapproval was clear. Shocked, Van froze at the realization, his erection fading almost instantly. _“Is this how you want your first time to be? Tied to death and slaughter? You might as well rut on the corpses of the fallen.”_

“....Van?” Dilandau had stopped moving moments after he’d frozen and was now watching him with wary distrust in his eyes. The dragonslayer had noticed his lovers flagging passion and been unable to prevent that familiar dread of rejection from rising up inside him once again, whispering an endless litany of insecurities in his ears. “Is everything alright?”

Van could feel the minute trembling in the albino’s body and could see the tension filling him. He could just imagine how this all had to look from Dilandau’s perspective and he struggled to find the words to explain himself quickly, before the damage was irreparable.

“I want you.” He blurted out, not caring how unromantic it sounded. The need to get his point across far outweighed style at this point. “I really do... but not here, not on this bed.” Before he even knew what had hit him, Van found himself on the floor, his head ringing and his jaw aching from where he’d been struck. It took several dazed and blinking moments to clear the dark spots from the edges of his vision, but when he did, he saw Dilandau standing over him, radiating raw and unbridled fury. Energist light crackled in the depths of his eyes, causing them to blaze as he practically trembled in an attempt to restrain himself.

“Fuck you Fanelia!” The dragonslayer snarled. “You’re no better than the rest of them! I’m just a handy fuck until you start to feel guilty, then I’m just tossed aside so you can be at peace with your fucking conscience?” A slender leg drew back, ready to aim a deadly kick to the downed king, but Van was no slouch when it came to combat and he quickly rolled towards Dilandau, one hand cupping his ankle while the other struck the hip of his supporting leg, knocking the youth off balance and sending him crashing down to the floor.

Before Dilandau could recover, Van was on top of him, pinning slender wrists to the floor and using his own body to keep any painful kicks at bay. Crimson eyes flashed in warning, but Van never saw it. Instead, he dove forward, seizing those lips with his own, crushing their mouths together violently enough to draw blood as tooth caught on lip.

For a moment, Dilandau struggled against him, kicking and thrashing fiercely, only to melt beneath the king seconds later. For his part, Van didn’t relent. He knew that victory rested in keeping the albino off balance and holding the upper hand. The instant his dominance wavered, the dragonslayer would seize control once again and likely stab him for his presumptions.

The pain in his jaw was all but forgotten, as was the impending headache from the attack. Instead, endorphins flooded his system and he felt his wings mantling around them, blocking out the rest of the world so that nothing existed beyond themselves.

“You’re too hot headed.” Van murmured softly when they finally had to separate for air. He smiled down at the pinned youth beneath him, loving the dazed and hungry look in those crimson eyes. That flash of vulnerability was addictive, as was the delicate way in which that lovely pink tongue slid out between kiss swollen lips to taste the blood smearing across them. He’d been so wrapped up in the pleasure Dilandau could give him that he’d almost forgotten how mind shatteringly delectable the albino was when he submitted.

Despite the reluctance of moments ago, he could feel his body stirring to life once again at the thought of dominating this beautiful creature. He wanted to claim that fire utterly, to hold it in his hands and have it burn for him alone. Just imagining what Diandau would look like lost in passion made the young king shudder deep inside with need and gods help him, he almost claimed the beautiful albino right there and then on the floor of the pirate ship.

It was only by sheer steely determination that he held himself back, though his shaft quivered taut as a bowstring, ready for release. All it would take was a thrust of his hips and he’d have everything he wanted... everything Dilandau wanted. Those crimson eyes looked up into his, daring him, begging him to take that final step.

With a shattered moan, Van sagged against Dilandau’s body, burying his face against that slender throat, feeling the pulse racing just beneath the skin.

“I want you Dilandau Albatou, so much that I think I’m going mad... but when I take you, I want it to be just us. No ghosts from the past, no guilt, no worries. Just us and how perfect you will feel wrapped around me.” His voice was a low hungry growl and he drank in how the dragonslayers breath seemed to quicken at his words.

“I’m not rejecting you.” He stated, just in case that needed to be clarified. “Once we’re off this boat and in our tent, I’m going to make you mine and I’m going to hear you scream my name out over and over again until the gods themselves take note.” As added emphasis to his words, he tangled his fingers into that silken hair and tightened his grip, giving Dilandau’s head a slight shake. “Until then, you don’t ever hit me again like that!” He snarled, more than half expecting retaliation. Instead, the albino moaned softly, his pupils growing so wide that they swallowed up his entire iris, bathing Dilandau’s eyes in darkness.

Unable to resist, Van dove in for another deep soul tasting kiss, claiming that perfect mouth with every ounce of rough blistering passion currently tearing apart his body. It thrilled him beyond belief to feel Dilandau respond so eagerly to his forcefulness and for the barest of moments, he wondered if this was just another aspect of the other youth’s conditioning. No, he quickly told himself. He wasn’t Shroden, he had no holds over the albino save for those the young captain let him have. As evidenced by the bruise likely spreading across his jaw, the instant he did something his lover didn’t like, the disapproval would be made abundantly clear.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and pulled away, his fingers still tangled in those silken locks for a few more moments.

“Better?” He asked, risking a faint smile as he pretended not to feel the other teen’s rock hard erection pressing against his thigh... or his own which rested all too close to a source of rather incredible and tantalizing heat.

“No you bastard.” Dilandau murmured, lifting up just enough to steal another kiss from Van’s lips, his eyes glinting defiantly. “How am I supposed to walk now with this case of blue balls?” Frustration was evident in the other youth’s voice, but so was a certain level of admiration. Van was willing to bet that there were few men able to withstand the albino’s advances. More importantly, he’d done it without shattering what was apparently a rather fragile psyche. Who else had rejected Dilandau badly? There had to be more than Gaddes for such an extreme reaction. Whoever it had been, the wounds had been deep, leaving Van with half formed plans to permanently geld whoever had caused his lover so much pain.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, Jaffa is NOT coffee. Its brewed from the roots of the thistleroot in Zaibach, a hardy little plant with fruit that creates a rather spicy oil they use to pickle pretty much everything. It's rather healthy to drink, but the taste isn't appealing to most. Even those who drink it regularly often mix it with a thick cream and serve it with dried fruit to cut the taste. 
> 
> Wow did Gaddes ever dodge a bullet there! Yeah, let's all blame Van for defiling the pure and innocent Dilandau! Bad Van! Poor Allen really has no one he can trust anymore. He has plotting junior madoushi, enemy generals, kings intent on seducing his sibling and a bloody war brewing! he's going to go bald from the stress!!
> 
> Seriously, the beastkin are so chill I sort of half expect them to bust into a rendition of hakuna matata or something. Nothing really fazes them for long. Draconians? Meh. Homicidal mass murderers? Well, he doesn't kill beastkin so no biggie... Dragon eating the fallen? Ah, they're meat now anyway, the scavengers would have chewed them up so why get upset? It sort of makes me wonder where they'd draw the line and say enough is enough.
> 
> Lastly, DAMN YOU HITOMI!!! finally an explanation as to why a highly skilled and decorated squad with a flawless record was suddenly unable to capture one measly little king and a friggin middle school girl! It's all her fault! Screwing with Dilandau's abilities, messing with his fate... stupid Mystic Moon people.
> 
> Next Chapter: A moment we've been waiting for, and a moment they all had coming.
> 
> Dilandau and Van have a fun relationship to write. There's certainly passion there... for better or worse, but will they survive each other? I like the little dominance fights they have constantly and I'm curious how this will present with Ignis and Irma. Who will be the more nurturing of the two? Who will be the more protective? At least Van is finally starting to bond with Kamata. Poor little guy even brought Van a treat!


	14. First Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exploring the pirate ship leads to some interesting discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I had to recover from my NaNoWriMo blitz and I started a new job which I adore, but it keeps me running around at high stress levels for most of the day so I get home and just fall over into bed and die. This chapter gave me a lot of problems, one scene in particular which was rewritten over and over again until I scrapped the whole thing and just started again from scratch. 
> 
> This is a long chapter and there's a ton crammed into it so I hope you enjoy. We have new faces appearing, new problems and everything is getting turned on it's head... again.

Room after room revealed heaps of gold, fine clothing and even assorted war paraphernalia, everything from banners, weapons and bits of armour to scavenged parts for melefs. These pirates had been as eclectic as they’d been opportunistic and Van’s head spun at the sheer amount of wealth on this boat. Even Dilandau was starting to look impressed. Sliding the already heavy sac off his shoulder, he wandered into a room filled with bits of jewellery strewn about with disorganized abandon. Van carried a similar sack, having sent his wings away in order to carry it more easily.

“Even if we had every member of the Red Paws carry as much as they could, Captain Norest is still going to walk away from this a very wealthy man.” Dilandau murmured, sounding almost amused. “I’m not sure if I’m impressed with my generosity, or annoyed with myself.” He allowed himself a faint chuckle and then grinned widely over his shoulder at Van. The expression was filled with pure unrestrained mischeif. Seriously, if I had any clue how to sail a ship, I’d say we just float away with this little treasure trove and found our own damn country.”

“You realize that I already have my own country.” Van couldn’t help but return the smile, buoyed by their shared good humour. Having grown to know Dilandau and his particularly strange brand of humour, he was hardly surprised by what slipped out of the albino’s mouth next.

“Yeah, but yours is all broken and burnt. I mean a real country, with electricity, running water, hygiene!” It figured that Dilandau would decide to be intractable in regards to one particular idea and refuse to be swayed, even after all this time. Van would almost be impressed if he wasn’t lazily entertaining thoughts of punching the dragonslayer right in his perfect smirking mouth.

“You really are an insufferable ass, you know that right?” There was no heat behind either insult, the worst of the sting had worn off over the course of their strange friendship. Besides, it was hard to get behind the idea of splitting lips he really desperately wanted to kiss some more.

“You’re only saying that because you don’t understand what a real bath is like.” The dragonslayer continued, idly sorting through a few gaudy necklaces, holding up a few of the nicer pieces in order to examine the stones within. “I’m not talking about a bucket of heated water that you all sit in according to rank. I mean water that “magically” comes out of the walls at the turn of a knob, already heated! It fills this glorious basin with clean water and then you mix it with this mystical chemical called soap. When you get it wet and rub it over your body, it washes away dirt!” Forget punching. Van was going to strangle him to death one night. There was no doubt about it.

“Keep it up Albatou and I’ll toss you overboard just to watch you drown.”

“You wouldn’t do that. Kamata would never forgive you.”

“I’ll feed him and he’ll forget about you within a fortnight.”

“You’re twisted Fanel, very twisted.” Dilandau turned around to look Van dead in the eye before taking a step forward. His hand lashed out with almost blinding speed, grabbing the king’s jaw in his hand and kissing him deeply. Fierce passion sizzled through them both for a moment like an electrical current, whispering of untapped power and potential. Van could actually feel the fine hairs on his body rising up in response.

There was barely any time to shiver in anticipation, tasting that glorious tongue before Dilandau pulled back, breaking the kiss and leaving Van desperately wanting more. Before his dazed and spinning mind could come up with a proper response, Dilandau grinned that wonderful playfully evil smile at the hotly blushing king.

“I rather like it.” Releasing his chin, the albino then held up a rather simple yet lovely necklace with a line of glittering rubies along the chain. They shone with an inner light, seeming to almost glow from within.

“It’s...its lovely?” Van wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say or do. As usual, he felt thoroughly off balance by the unpredictability of the other teen. Was he supposed to kiss him back? Had the moment passed and they were supposed to talk now as if that hadn’t just happened? Was he supposed to flirt? Honestly, the dragonslayer needed to come with an instructional manual or something, because Van was rather sure he’d go insane before he figured him out.

In the end, despite the insistent tingling of his lips and the stubborn ache in his groin, he decided to play it casual. Better to err on the side of caution and all that. At least until he learned the rules of this ever shifting game.

“But hardly my style...”

“It’s not for you you greedy little pigeon.” Dilandau replied primly and Van let out a silent sigh of relief at having guessed the correct response. “It’s for Ignis. Rubies would look beautiful on him, and I’m hardly about to leave the boy dependant on us. If we’re ever separated, he’s going to need some portable wealth of his own to pawn. Now help me find something for Irma. I’m thinking emeralds would be nice, or amber, though honestly seeing as how she’s rather obviously part dragon, something made with energist chips would be gorgeous.”

“Yeah, and the instant you get angry enough, they’d explode or teleport her away or something. We’ll stick with the emeralds.” Van countered, seeing the logic behind the idea. Privately, he was deeply moved that the dragonslayer was taking such an active interest in caring for the two newest members of their family. He’d originally half expected the pale youth to ignore Irma in favour of the more lovely Ignis. From what he’d seen, rants about equality aside, Dilandau had little care for females of any sort. It was good that he was intent on ensuring that both survivors were well taken care of.

With this new goal in mind, they searched through the assorted jewellery, setting aside a few particularly nice pieces they could easily sell, or intended to give to members of the wolf clan as gifts. Van did notice Dilandau setting aside one rather nice ring inset with a stone the same vibrant blue as Allen’s eyes... or Celena’s. He declined to comment on the choice, though allowed himself a slight smile.

“I’m surprised you’re not grabbing anything for yourself.” Van finally commented, noticing that while the ornaments being chosen were lovely and thankfully, portable, none properly suited the albino’s unique colouration.

Glancing over from where he was studying an ornamental dagger, Dilandau chuckled softly and tossed the art piece aside in favour of a more simple small blade. It was the perfect size for Rhee and would make for a lovely surprise should someone try to grab her again.

“Why bother? I’m more beautiful than any of these little accessories. By that way, that’s something you should have pointed out at least twice by now. Honestly Van, are you trying not to get laid tonight?” That caused Van to sputter for a moment before he managed to focus enough to reply with words rather than a wide eager grin.

“I meant... you always had that tiara, and didn’t you used to wear a necklace under all that armour?”

“It was called a diadem.” Dilandau replied with just enough of an edge to his voice to leave no room for argument. “And if you see one in this mess, let me know. It was wonderful for keeping my hair out of my face.” Slender fingers brushed absently through long silken locks which by now lightly brushed his shoulders. “It’s too damn long as it is. People are going to start mistaking me for a girl... or worse, Schezar.”

“I think your hair looks great as it is and no one would ever mistake you for Allen. He’s an ember where you’re a wildfire.” The words slid out before he could stop them, but thankfully the albino beamed at the compliment.

“That almost makes up for calling it a tiara... almost.” He stuffed a few more rubies into his bag as well as a rather nice looking necklace and matching armlet bearing some rather beautiful emeralds. “Too bad we probably can’t talk Kamata into wearing some jewellery.”

“He’d eat it.” Van didn’t doubt that observation for a moment. Dragons had been known to eat the strangest things, and ores as well as precious stones were most definitely in their diet. Sighing softly in acknowledgement, Dilandau nodded his head, likely casting aside visions of him riding a bejewelled dragon into battle or some such nonsense.

“One thing is bothering me though.” Van murmured, glancing around the treasure laden room with a slight frown.

“Just one? That’s a first for you.” The king ignored the lazily thrown barb.

“Why is all the treasure up here?” He felt somewhat vindicated when Dilandau frowned and put down the ridiculously ornate choker he’d been toying with. “I mean, you’d figure that pirates would keep all their loot in the hold down below rather than crammed in here.” Granted, he had no idea how pirates operated, but it just didn’t make sense.

“You’re right.” Dilandau murmured after a moment of thought. Putting down the choker, the dragonslayer turned and made to head out of the room. “Let’s find out what’s taking up so much space.” It said a lot about the albino’s character that he so easily turned away from the treasure when given the opportunity to explore a mystery. Treasure and gidaru really meant nothing to him and Van found that to be rather refreshing. Most people in his life seemed to be ruled by coin and jewel. Of course, he already knew what the dragonslayer prized above all else, a good battle. Seeing the blood of an enemy flow down his blade was more priceless than any treasure... maybe a little avarice would do him some good.

Still, he followed the other teen, hesitant to let him out of his sight for more than a moment, though the king did pause to snag a piece of jewellery that caught his eye, slipping it neatly into his bag before Dilandau noticed.

Naturally, neither youth had any clue how to get to the hold, so they simply wandered about, looking for any stairs or ladders which led them down deeper into the ship. Their journeys showed them the crew quarters... which they were quick to exit. It seemed that despite living on copious amounts of water, the men aboard this ship had little care for the concept of bathing. The air was so foul in those rooms that even Van’s eyes watered. Poor Dilandau was left retching loudly, causing him to decide that the fanelian was now in charge of opening doors from that point onwards.

Discovering the bilge wasn’t much better, being filled with mostly fetid water, but it at least told the youths that they were at the bottom of the ship. Mingled with the stagnant water was the stink of decay and sickness. Van felt his senses warn him that something was amiss and he could feel the pull of his instincts drawing him towards the source, but was unsure of what to expect. While there was no sense of danger, there was an odd feeling of anticipation and a strange weight which tugged at him, urging him forwards despite his trepidations.

“Something wrong?” Dilandau asked, his voice low and pitched not to travel. His slender fingers were already wrapped around his sword blade, ready to draw at a moment’s notice and those gleaming crimson eyes of his shone at the prospect of another fight.

“No...” He wished he sounded more sure of himself. “There’s something up ahead... I’m not sure what though.”

“Judging by the stink, likely some corpses.” Dilandau grumbled, doing his best not to breathe. “You always take me to the nicest places Van.”

“Hey, you’re the one who gave me a moonlit walk through a pool of blood so don’t complain.” Opening his mouth to protest, the dragonslayer found that he honestly couldn’t and closed his mouth with an audible snap. “Fine... but you’re opening the door. If it smells this bad already, I’m not stepping up to get a face full of it.”

“Hmph, I thought they made them tougher in Zaibach.” Van mused teasingly as he walked up to the door of the hold and grabbed the rope holding it closed. Really, door was a generous term. It was more of a giant hole in the floor with a large plank over it to keep idiots from falling in. It took a few tugs to haul it up, but when he did, even he had to quickly back away, covering his mouth with his hands to keep from throwing up. “Oh gods of Gaea!” He gasped out, barely managing to keep his last meal down. The stink of unwashed bodies mingled with rotting food, feces and death was overpowering.

“Well... now we know why they didn’t have room in the hold...” Dilandau murmured, sounding just as disgusted as Van felt. He surprised the king however by pulling a shirt out of his bag, wrapping it around his face and flashing the king what had to be a rather challenging grin. “What’s the matter Van? I thought they made them tougher in Fanelia” Then without preamble, he stepped boldly down the ladder into the foul darkness.

Cursing softly under his breath, Van (somewhat reluctantly) followed. There was no way he was going to let that narcissistic pretty boy who whined whenever he got so much as a speck of dirt on him show him up in a situation like this... he just really wished it didn’t smell quite so bad. While he was wasting wishes, he added on that having his eyes adjust to the overwhelming darkness a little more quickly would also be rather nice. Not that he was overly eager to see what he was stepping in. The texture was honestly enough to fill his mind with all sorts of horrific possibilities.

Of course, like most wishes, this one proved to be a curse in disguise because the instant his eyes finally did adjust to the dim light provided by the feather on his neck, he quickly found himself praying for blindness.

The shifting nebulous shapes he’d originally taken to be exotic animals of some sort were gently illuminated by the pale light of the feather. Dozens of wide pale eyes reflected back the light eerily as he began to make out the shape of pale thin arms, crouching legs and trembling bodies clothed in rags.

They were people... so many people. Men, women... children. All of them chained, weak and terrified, trying to pull away despite their restraints, their bodies shaking with dread at what was to come.

What was worse was that despite their terror, not one of them called out or begged for mercy, likely having long ago realized that such luxuries were far beyond their reach. All Van heard were the softest of whimpers which slipped past trembling lips and somewhere in the darkness, the faint squalling of a young child, quickly silenced. It it wasn’t for the sounds of ragged breathing and the soft metallic clink of chains against each other, the entire hold would be perfectly silent.

“Slaves.” Van’s voice was flat and deadly. It was bad enough seeing them in the port town or on the ships, their thin bodies striped with scars and spotted with bruises. To see them like this, chained, petrified... it reminded him too much of the labs and their doomed inhabitants, their twisted corpses forever buried in that hellhole. While the eyes of these poor wretches weren’t lost to madness and utter despair, it was still too close to his memories and he could feel something dark and merciless twisting in his guts like an angry viper. In that moment, he knew without a doubt that if any member of the pirate crew was within reach, he’d kill them without a second thought and likely be brutal enough with the act that not even Dilandau himself would dare comment. Worse, he wouldn’t feel even the faintest flicker of regret.

It was a strange and almost thrilling realization, one which he knew should sicken him and wrack his soul with guilt, but it simply wasn’t there. In the midst of his rage, there was no room for any gentle emotions. Was this how Dilandau always felt? This cold cruel purity of purpose and utter acceptance of his inner darkness? It was strangely liberating, invigorating him in ways he knew were wrong and ultimately damaging... but looking at those pale eyes glittering in the darkness, he honestly didn’t care.

“We need to find the keys to their chains.” Dilandau appeared in the darkness like the demon he so often claimed to be, his pale body glowing like a beacon, lit by the light of his own feather. Like Van, his posture screamed out his inner rage, though unlike the king, his eyes glowed with that brilliant and vicious energist light, promising death to any who dared so much as move the wrong way.

More than half expecting the dragonslayer to simply slay the slaves and move on, the albino surprised him by crouching down, heedless of the surrounding filth and offering his canteen to a middle aged man before motioning for him to pass it along. The sudden and honestly, alien nature of the selfless gesture shocked Van out of his rage and back to the situation at hand. Looking at the pale thin wretches, he realized that these people likely hadn’t had clean water in who knew how long. Remembering his own terrible thirst aboard that horrible leviship, Van was quick to follow suit; offering his to a woman who likely hadn’t seen her twentieth birthday, yet clutched two young children tightly against her body protectively. Despite her terror, he could see the flash of fire in their pale green depths, warning him that she was willing to risk life and limb to protect them.

With shaking hands, she snatched the canteen from his hands, carefully giving some to one child, then the other before taking a few small sips for herself. She then further surprised him by generously passing the flask to the young teenage boy couched next to her, barely any older than Van himself. Her own thirst must still be terrible, but still she shared the precious water, as did the youth after his own careful sip.

“The captain likely had it on him. Van found himself replying to Dilandau, his eyes watching the water filled canteen being passed around down the line, no one taking more than a small portion despite their clear desperate thirst. They intended to ensure that everyone received a portion and honestly, such selfless nobility impressed the king deeply.

“I doubt we’re digging him out anytime soon.” The king couldn’t help but murmur somewhat absently as he tore his gaze away from the travelling canteen to instead study the chains which bound these people in this filth.

All of them seemed to wear a set of heavy manacles around their wrists. They were attached together by a short chain and a strange contraption which the larger chain ran through, enabling each slave to be removed from the line without freeing the others, though when bound, liked them all together in an unbroken line. While bound, one couldn’t move without affecting the others, making any action a trial for all. It was cruel, inhumane and the earlier rage which had filled Van’s soul rose up once again, flaring hotly.

Cringing back under the force of his scrutiny, the young woman did her best to shield the two children from harm, her lips pulling back from her teeth defiantly as she prepared herself to take the brunt of his wrath. Van never even noticed. He barely saw her or the filthy hold. His mind was back in that hideous hallway, walking through endless nightmarish corridors and bearing witness to the tormented lives of those trapped within the cells. Their pain and terror was his own as he was strapped down to that cold metal table and felt the sharp needles pierce his skin, the knives cutting into his flesh. The weight of that terrible madness flared like a wildfire, catching hold and burning as brilliantly as it had that terrible day on the storm-ridden plateau.

As before, he felt ht weight of a sword in his hands and knew with absolute surety what he had to do... revelled in the clarity of his destiny.

Grabbing hold of his rage, he cradled it within his heart and he drew his blade with slow deliberation. His heart pounded in his veins, building in power, feeding his muscles. It wasn’t enough though... it was never enough. As before, h felt something inside him reach out, feeling the heat of power pulsing nearby, calling to him, whispering the sweetest, bloodiest promises if only he’d let it in.

Lost in the madness of his rage, his mind trapped in its nightmare hellscape, he welcomed it with open arms and felt the power slam into him. It filled him, saturated his every pore, pounding like a relentless heartbeat as power crackled through his veins.

Energy sparked along his body, flickering with a crimson light of it’s own, delicious, addictive and utterly at his command. Dimly, he could almost hear Hitomi screaming at him to stop, to pull away before it was too late, but another, louder voice urged him to grasp it and hold it close. It was a voice he’d grown to trust. As dangerous as a summer storm and just as unpredictable, it goaded him forward, demanded that he wield the power he’d taken and force to the world to bend to his will whether it wanted to or not!

The crimson light gathered along the edge of his sword, causing it to shine brilliantly as if the metal had grown molten. Its shining light was reflected in the king’s eyes, echoing the crimson glow of the dragonslayer as he raised the weapon above his head, pausing only long enough to savour the raw and wild strength sizzling through him, threatening ot tear him apart as it demanded the release that only obliteration could bring.

In a shining arc the colour of blood, the blade descended, shattering the spell which had held the hold in perfect silence. Then the screams began.

It bit through the heavy steel of the chains as if they were mere smoke, sending up a shower of brilliant sparks in its wake as the bonds shattered with almost explosive force. With the power of the blow, the blade bit deeply into the wood of the floor, but Van never noticed. He simply moved forward, heedless of the slaves scattering away from him in terror, not noticing their own freedom in their terror.

Silently, relentlessly, the fanelian king strode over to the next line of slaves, freeing them in a burst of explosive power. The molten shine of his sword pulsed in time with his heartbeat, the energy tracing along it’s length and crawling up his arm like an electrical spider, utterly unnoticed as he freed the next line of slaves, then the next, then the next. He didn’t stop until all were free and crowding the far wall of the hold, as far away from him as they could get, their eyes wide with fear though appearing red, reflecting the light he was casting.

He had no idea how many chains he’d broken or how many slaves he’d freed until surprisingly cool hands caught his own, stilling his blade. At their touch, the rage drained out of him as if someone had pulled a plug, and with it, the fiery strength which had sustained him. Exhaustion filled the sudden vacuum left behind and Van found himself swaying dangerously until the cool hands became strong arms and a stronger body as Dilandau caught and held him close. Unable and unwilling to fight the embrace, Van’s sword drooped, the tip resting against the now rubble strewn floor as he laned heavily against the dragonslayer’s slender form. Surprisingly gentle fingers slid through his hair, mimicking the comfort he’d once given when their situations had been reversed and he was rather shocked at just how much comfort he felt at their touch.

“How can you live with that inside you?” He murmured softly, everything felt so heavy, even his words seemed to weight him down.

“All power comes at a cost you stupid Pigeon.” Dilandau replied with gentle fondness in his voice. “You should know that as well as anyone.” Yeah... he really did. Still, he wasn’t sure what scared him more, how liberating that madness had felt, or how powerful it had made him.

“Did... did I get them all?” Van asked, struggling to force his sluggish mind to form the words, now that the fog was fading from his mind, he was able to remember the slaves and their predicament... and their terror of him. Silken lips kissed his forehead lightly and he could feel them smile against his skin.

“Yeah, you did.” Dilandau breathed gently, sounding both impressed and aroused by what he’d just seen. Very aroused. “Sweet Fate you were gorgeous.” He really needed to have a talk with the albino about all of his various strange kinks. They couldn’t possibly be healthy. “I had no idea you could do that... get inside me like that and steal my rage.” The words were practically purred in his ear and Van had little doubt that if the floor hadn’t been covered in filth and they didn’t have a rather large and terrified audience, the dragonslayer might very well demonstrate just how turned on he was by those actions. “You’re very lucky you didn’t drive yourself mad.”

A sharp slap across his face drove away the memory of the soft kiss, leaving Van’s head spinning even as it cleared away the last of the fog.

“Don’t EVER do something that stupid again!” Dilandau hissed at him, suddenly all feral fury. “One of us being mad is more than enough!” For once, Van didn’t have the energy to argue or fight back. As much as he hated to admit it, the zaibach youth was right... not that Van regretted his actions for even a moment. It had been worth the risk.

“You’re free.” He announced loudly, victory and pride filling his voice, carrying it easily throughout the hold. No one made any move to leave, they just continued to stare at him and cringe against the walls as far away from him as they could get. Confused, he looked closely at them, they’d been captive for some time, likely having spent a colour or two packed in this hold like animals... no, worse than animals. Still, they should understand what he’d done even if they didn’t know the langauage.

Only now did guilt wash through the king like a heavy wave. He’d terrified them. He’d stood up in front of sick and abused people and acted every inch the demon so many people claimed he was. All that was missing was his wings flaring out to finish that twisted picture. Gods of Gaea, he was an idiot!

“I... I’m sorry.” He began, softening his voice and reaching out a hand towards the nearest person, only to have them cringe away once more. “I didn’t mean to scare you...”

Dilandau looked almost smug for a moment, enjoying how the tables had turned for the young king, forcing the monarch into the role of the feared villain for once. Still, something didn’t seem right, despite the obvious. These people, there was something familiar about them. The set of their features, the shape of their pale eyes... the flashes of defiance still smouldering in their depths despite their desperate situation.

As realization took hold, it was the albino’s turn to feel that white hot rage simmering through him, though unlike Van, he’d long ago grown used to its siren song and managed to retain his focus enough to bark out an order in zaibachi.

“You dare show weakness? You Dare show fear?” His glowing eyes swept across the huddled masses, noting how their eyes widened, not in fear this time, but in shock at hearing the familiar language.

The slaves stared at him for a long moment, studying him, recognizing him and one by one, he heard them gasp out his name in voices filled with worshipful awe. Oh Sweet Fate it felt good to speak his native language again and be understood. The sheer sound of it was pure beauty to his ears.

“You would let yourself be beaten by chains and fear?” He made a point of meeting each and every one of those fearful eyes with his own glowing glare, laying the challenge there at their feet. “You’ve been given your freedom but you are too afraid to take it? Yes, you’re starved, bruised and sick, but don’t you dare lay down in defeat! Our Emperor came to us to pull us out of the dirt and filth, giving us a grand and glorious destiny. Just because he no longer walks among us is no reason to bow your heads once more!”

“But... you stand next to the enemy! Next to the White Dragon who murdered our beloved Emperor!” A voice, more daring than the others spoke up from the darkness. While Dilandau couldn’t see them, he made a note of their position, impressed that one of them still had some spine to them.

Rather than attacking the challenger, he sneered in their direction, the expression full of contempt.

“The Fanelian king didn’t murder our Emperor, that crime rests on the shoulders of our own Strategos Folken. Van Fanel was our enemy during the war, but that war is over, that destiny has been fulfilled and now a new path opens up before us all.

“Emperor Dornkirk chose his fate and welcomed death as part of a grand and unforeseen plan. You stand at your own crossroad of destiny and I have stood upon mine. Choose wisely.”

Van listened to the pale captain speak at length in the harsh gutteral northern tongue. He didn’t speak it well enough to know what was being said, Dilandau was speaking far too quickly to translate, though he did recognize their names, as well as that of Folken and Dornkirk. Judging by the tone, it wasn’t overly complimentary, but really, nothing in zaibachi sounded overly friendly. For all he knew, the dragonslayer could have been quoting love poetry and it would still sound like a declaration of war.

Still, the more the pale teen spoke, the more he saw the fear fade in the eyes of the freed slaves. In it’s place was a growing sense of awe and determination as those thin bedraggled people held themselves up a little straighter, a sense of strength sparking in the depths of their eyes once more.

They edged closer to the duo and more than one tentatively reached out grimy hands to touch their legendary hero. Surprisingly, the vain captain allowed it, though Van could feel the disgust at having filth come in contact with him.

In contrast, their reaction to the fanelian king was less than welcoming despite his previous actions. They still watched him with wary fear and no small amount of dread, though it was no longer an all consuming panic. Instead, they seemed to be sizing him up and studying him though few showed him any level of warmth. Not that he could really blame them. The fall of their empire was sort of his fault... alright, mostly his fault. At least he now knew enough about zaibach pride to not try to apologize to them. The last thing they needed was insult on top of their many injuries.

Still, that didn’t mean that he was going to just stay quiet and not try to speak up in his own defence. He was fully responsible for his actions during the war, there was no denying that, but as for the madness which had followed, stripping Zaibach down to it’s weary bones... there was no way he was going to claim full responsibility for that insanity. But before he could so much as open his mouth to speak, Dilandau was talking again in that commanding voice and placing an arm firmly around Van’s waist. The casual intimacy of the gesture wasn’t lost on the people around them and several began to murmur in confusion.

It was an uncomfortable and rather embarrassing situation, made worse by the fact that he had no idea what Dilandau was actually saying... and honestly didn’t fully trust him not to spin some wild and insane tale. Still, he found himself somewhat grateful for the albino’s strange celebrity status with his countrymen. While he still received begrudging looks, the hard edge of hatred had vanished, making way for a sort of bemused confusion and odd look of indulgence. It was likely a well established fact that Dilandau would do what he damn well pleased and propriety be damned.

Impressively it was the young woman who he’d first given his water to who first edged forward tentatively. Nervousness radiated from every gesture, but she still closed the distance between them and gave him a faint smile of gratitude, going so far as to murmur something in a soft voice, making a hand motion to include the two children though her pale green eyes never left his.. Several people gasped loudly in shock at her words and more than a few gave the woman dark glares, as if she’d just stated something utterly lewd.

“What did she say?” Van found himself asking Dilandau, suddenly really wishing he’d spent more time learning the overly complex language. The dragonslayer smiled warmly at him and pulled him into a gentle kiss. Van almost pulled away in shock, fully aware of his lovers aversion for public displays of gentler emotions, not to mention his own innate shyness. The wolf clan was one thing, but these were humans! Zaibachi humans!

Evidently not all of them were thrilled to see this cooperation between enemies and there were several sharp words suddenly called out. Rather than simply attack the dissenters, Dilandau deepened the kiss, making a rather distinct point with the gesture, something Van wasn’t over thrilled about even if it did leave his head spinning in the most wonderful ways. Even surrounded by the vile stench of the hold, Dilandau’s lips still tasted wonderful and set fire to every cell in his body, making him glow in pleasure. It was almost a shame when he finally pulled away and fixed his fierce crimson glare back on the crowd.

Calling out another jumble of sounds in what sounded like a rather clear challenge, Dilandau then went so far as to unbuckle his sword and hold it out. The meaning was clear. “If you don’t like it, either fight me or shut the hell up.”

For a culture known for their subtle machinations, they could be surprisingly blunt when they wanted to be... or maybe that was just Dilandau.

When it became obvious that no one was going to challenge the best warrior in their country over who he was having sex with, Dilandau refastened his belt and then looked back at the woman, favouring her with a brilliant smile.

“Thank you for the water.” Dilandau translated directly for Van, managing to capture the woman’s inflections rather adeptly. “We all thank you, even if some can’t admit it yet. We owe you our lives. My brother and sister, we are in your debt. Accept our service in payment.” Crimson eyes glanced over at Van, a hint of warning sparked in their glowing depths. “If you don’t accept, it will be considered a rather blatant insult towards her. She can declare a blood feud over it.”

“We just rescued them from slavery!” Van protested, doing his best to keep his voice down despite his horror at the situation. “I don’t want to own people!” This time he was greeted with a look of utter exasperation from the dragonslayer.

“Who said anything about owning? Honestly Van. They’re not selling their bodies to you, they’re offering their loyalty. There’s a huge difference.”

“Are you sure?”

“Which of us is from Zaibach? Of course I’m sure. You want to reply with _Accipio gratia tua_.”  The words flowed beautifully from the albino’s tongue, sounding fierce and exotic with his sharp accent. “Think of it like this. She knows who you are and what you did, yet she’s still making this offer in front of her countrymen, in front of me. That takes guts of steel. In accepting, you’re showing an understanding of our culture and demonstrating respect of it.” The level of depth and insight behind Dilandau’s words caused Van to raise an eyebrow in surprise. It almost sounded like Folken explaining the intricacies of some strange social custom to him rather than the callous and blunt warlord. “Or, you can run her through. That’s an acceptable refusal.” ...And then he had to go and ruin the illusion once more. Really, at this point, Van really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Your people are seriously screwed up.”

“Spoken out of ignorance, barbarian.” This time there wasn’t any warmth behind the insult, warning that Van was treading on very thin ice. Hardly a shock, Dilandau was always touchy when it came to defending Zaibach, something the king really didn’t understand considering how badly he’d been abused by them. Still, he had a point, no matter how horrible. This woman was swearing loyalty to him and it would go a long way to easing things with the rest of the zaibachi gathered around them. Besides, it was long past the time that true forgiveness was granted and a real peace created. If he didn’t extend his hand towards these people, who would? It had to start somewhere and honestly, Van was sick to death of all of the hatred and fighting.

“Asipio gracia tuah.” Van stumbled with the unfamiliar and twisting words, pretty sure he was screwing up the pronunciation horribly. Still, it was enough to be understood and the woman smiled up at him as the two children watched him with wary eyes. Oddly enough, the tension in the hold seemed to fade significantly after he spoke the words of acceptance and many of the slaves began to inch forwards, their hands reaching out to touch both himself and Dilandau, as if trying to convince themselves that they were indeed real.

Van was hardly surprised when he heard several other people giving that vow to Dilandau. Their voices were filled with awe, their minds still struggling to come to grips with what they’d just borne witness to. It was the stuff of legends and likely would never truly be believed by anyone aside from those who’d witnessed it. Still, the people of Zaibach had been raised in a culture which saw technology and magic as something so mingled together that it had become part of their lives and strangeness such as this was far more easily accepted.

Of course, Dilandau accepted their veneration with his usual arrogance, carrying himself as if he was standing on the bridge of the Vione rather than in this sewage filled pit. Speaking of...

“We should get out of here. These people need to be cleaned and fed.” Van motioned towards the filthy masses, their closr proximity was serving to add to the rather impressive stench around them. “They must be starving, but I don’t think they should be putting their hands anywhere near their mouths until they’re clean.”

“Agreed. I’ll also want Mora to take a look at them. I can already tell that several are sick.”  Dilandau’s mood seemed to lighten with its usual mercurialness and he favoured Van with a warm smile before looking back at the  former  slaves and speaking again at length. Whatever he said seemed to shock all of them and several fell to their knees in gratitude. If they’d looked at Dilandau as an ido l before, he’d suddenly risen right up to the status of demigod and Van couldn’t help but give his lover a curious look, wondering just what exactly had been said, and how much he was going to dissaprove. It had better not be swearing bloody vengeance on whatever country had wronged them. There was no way that the king was going to sit back for that.

“Relax Fanelia.” Dilandau flashed him a smug smile. “I promised each of them a handful of jewels, some clothes and food.” It was hard not to look utterly taken aback at the dragonslayer’s remarkeably mature promises. They were not only utterly feasable, but made a great deal of sense, especially considering their situation. “Those who wish to join us in our travels have been welcomed to do so, though I warned them that we’re heading to Fanelia and travelling across the Wasting... though I doubt any of them really grasp just how horrific that will be. I’ve told them that they’re not beholden to us and if they wish to strike out on their own, they do so with our blessing.”

Their simple escape mission had been growing exponentially from the moment it had been conceived and Van couldn’t help but note that with these people at their side, they were now more of an occupying force than a small and easily overlooked band of travellers. Still, he couldn’t quite find it in himself to regret the offer Dilandau had made to his countrymen.

“ You’re just going to let them leave? They’ll probably be killed.” Van glanced at the dragonslayer, then the slaves, noticing how thin and ragged they all looked. Anyone striking out on their own would likely be dead by weeks end, if they didn’t end up the property of slavers once again. Sure, their chances were only marginally better with themselves, but any improvement was better than certain doom.

“Unless you’re their superior officer, you never give a zaibachi an order and expect it to be obeyed.” Crimson eyes glittered in amusement. “These are civilians, not military, so they don’t have to follow me if they don’t want to. Once they agree to join us though, they become mine. I will move mountains and raze countries to protect them, but in return, my word is law and they damn well know it.” There was just enough of an edge ot his voice that Van had no doubt that anyone daring to talk back or question the captain would likely find themselves on the point of his blade.

“What about my word?” He found himself asking, challenge echoing behind his words. Receiving a smirk in answer, Dilandau practically chuckled in amusement.

“They’ll take your word under advisement, those who can understand it at least.  You need to prove yourself to them for them to obey you. That little stunt with the sword was impressive enough for them to give you that chance despite your history. Don’t squander it. Seize this moment and prove your strength. Just don’t forget to always t reat them like soldiers, even the children.  Those who are soldiers will be comforted by it and those who are not will feel important, and honoured that you have such a high opinion of them. Give them a goal and ride them until they accomplish it. If you try to coddle them, all it will do is humiliate them and give the impession that you see them as being weak. They won’t take that well, not even the kids.” 

The cold words didn’t sit well with the king and he coudn’t help but wonder at how much was true of their culture and how much was just a reflection of Dilandau’s own twisted childhood. Hopefully he figured it out before he burned too many bridges because he knew that the other teen likely wasn’t going to offer much help.

Not bothering to wait and see how Van digested his words, Dilandau focussed his attention on his countrymen, once again forcing himself to swallow his disgust and rage at seeing such proud and noble people reduced to such a state. If this wasn’t symbolic of the whole damn mess his country was in, he didn’t know what was.

“Alright,” He stated loudly, his voice carrying easily across the hold. “Who here has rank?” Sharp eyes scanned the masses, fully aware that no matter how dire their situation had been, they’d have been fully aware of their pecking order. The people were conditioned from birth to look up to and follow the military. If there were any officers here, everyone would know about it.

After a moment of murmuring, a ragged looking man in his mid twenties thirties and a woman perhaps a few years older both stood up. Their pale eyes staring at the captain boldly.

“Commander  of the Fortress Altaire, Iron Army.  Antoni DeVorais” The man stated.  He was handsome enough, or at least would be once he was cleaned and put some flesh on his bones. Brilliant blue eyes smoldered, framed by copper red lashes which warned of a rather striking shade of auburn for his hair.  The name  he gave  was vaguely familiar but didn’t stand out in Diandau’s mind.  Altaire was a decent enough sized fortress though, stationed on the southern border, at least it had been before the war. At least the man was Iron Army, they were practical, to the point and rather innovative when you got down to it. Of course, not to the level of Copper Army, but not everyone could be perfect. As for the man himself, Dilandau couldn’t bring anything of note to mind, but honestly, he  hadn’t paid much attention to those outside of his own army unless they’d had the misfortune to either cross him or  one of his men. 

“Lieutenant Mal l a, stationed on the Lumos, Copper Army.”  The woman spoke up proudly,  she was a somewhat plain looking woman with cool pale grey eyes and what was likely light brown hair when clean. There was a stubborn set to her jaw and a ferocity in her stare which stated that she hadn’t been broken by her recent trails. Good. “ It’s a pleasure to serve under you sir.” Oh he liked her, there was an appropriate level of worship in her voice, making it clear that she wasn’t trying to just butter him up. The Lumos had been a decent enough fortress. He’d never worked with them directly, but they’d taken part in several successful campaigns and had appeared in more than one of Miguel’s lectures.

“Good, Ma l la,  Antoni , you’ll be my lieutenants, reporting directly to either myself of Van Fanel.” He shot  Antoni a level glare, daring him to challenge his authority. Ordinarily, the Commander would outrank him, but Dilandau was an elite captain which kept him outside the regular chain of command. Add in his celebrity status and the fact that he was the one currently holding a sword, his rank was well beyond that of a commander. 

Iron Army practiality raised it’s head and being neither foolish nor a  brazenly suicidal man,  Antoni accepted the “demotion” with grace, nodding his head respectfully to the captain.  He gave his chest a respectful rap with his knuckles and Dilandau knew that if the man had been wearing boots, he’d have heard well polished heels click together.

“Divide up everyone into groups and identify the sick. I want to know how bad it is, if they’re fit for travel and if it’s immediately treatable.” Dilandau stated with cold authority, his every word and movement radiating utter confidence that he was going to be unquestioningly obeyed. “We’re travelling with a rather skilled healer and I’d rather take as much work off his shoulders as possible considering the clusterfuck we’re about to dump on him.

“Each of you will choose two  sergeants to help you organize everyone. Once that’s done, meet me up  above. I want to get everyone out of here and above deck within twenty minutes.”  He allowed himself a slightly malicious grin, unable to quite resist stirring the pot and keeping people on their proverbial toes, even when they were as downtrodden as these slaves.

“Before you go above deck, do be warned, We travel with beast kin. Treat them with the same respect as you would give me. Our lives are in their hands and I will not hesitate to defend them and their honour.” The shocked looks of disgust on many of the faces made his next words so much sweeter. “Those of you who cannot bring yourselves to follow this simple order will learn that I also travel with a land dragon. He belongs to me, obeys me and will devour anyone who seeks to bring dishonour to me.” In hind sight, scaring them likely wasn’t a good idea considering how Kamata would react to their fear. Still, it was fun to see the looks of utter shock overriding the bigoted disgust. “Until you’re used to him, I’d suggest keeping your distance. He reacts rather badly to fear or aggression.”

Several people gasped loudly in horror and Van turned to look at him, a clear expression of “What did you just do?” written on his face.

“I told them about Kamata.” He replied to the unspoken question, sounding more than a little pleased with himself. “Better they find out now rather than when they see him in the flesh. I doubt that would go over well.” There was no need to explain the threats he’d also uttered. Van always loved having a reason to nag at him over stupid morals, he wasn’t about to hand the king any ammunition.

The look on Van’s face softened marginally but there was still suspicion in his eyes. Rather than be upset with that, Dilandau instead felt a slight warming of pride. Good, the last thing he wanted was a complacent lover. No matter how close they grew, he never wanted Van to think that he was tamed or safe. Like their dragon, he was always going to have fangs.

“What was that little pissing contest about?”

“Just establishing a chain of command. We’re in charge. If anyone questions you about that, beat them to within an inch of their life. If they draw steel on you, kill them. Don’t argue with me on this Van. These are my people and I know how they think. If you show yourself as too weak to keep everyone in line, then you obviously won’t be strong enough to keep them all safe from danger. Zaibach is a harsh land and is populated by harsh people.”

“We’re not in Zaibach.” Van hissed back, horrified at the very thought of such extreme action. “That might have escaped you in amongst all the dick waving you’ve been doing.”

“ Dick waving?”

“...old Fanelian custom.” Van felt his cheeks redden slightly but held his ground, refusing to get sidetracked. “I’m not murdering someone for standing up for themselves.”

“I’m not telling you to.” Honestly, how did those barbarians run their damn countries if they couldn’t keep civil order? “You beat them for challenging your will. You kill them for attacking you.”

“Have you ever thought that it was reasons like this why you’re so screwed up in the head?”

“Most advanced country on Gaea.”

“The most insane too if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Argue with me in private if you have to, not in public or I’ll be forced to duel you. You don’t want to take part in a Zaibach honour duel.” Van opened his mouth to argue, then sighed and shut it. As much as he hated to admit it, Dilandau was likey right. Showing division between them wasn’t going to help anything and right now, these people needed strong leadership. Of course, strong wasn’t synonimous with psychotic. There was no way he was going to beat people for speaking their mind!

“If we’re done arguing like old women, I’ve made Antoni and Malla our lieutenants. They’re going to choose two underlings for themselves and halve the people between them. That will keep everyone from being overwhelmed and will make it easier to keep track of everyone. I’ve got them separating the sick so we can give Mora a brief report on what to expect. My plan is to get them above deck and washed bfore they do anything else. We’ll use seawater first, to wash out their wounds. The salt will hurt like a bitch, but help any infections. Once they’re clean...ish, we’ll give them each some treasure to keep with them. I’m not going to bother giving them clean clothes until they’re actually physically clean. If we don’t wait, all the crap on them will just stay with them and we’ll be dealing with cycles of sickness. I’m also going to have them wait for food until we can get their hands clean. Two hours without food won’t kill them after all they’ve endured.”

It sounded cruel and heartless, but Van saw the logic behind it. Who knew what diseases these people had crawling all over themselves.  The last thing they needed to do was make it worse.

“Captain Norest isn’t going to be happy that you’re taking so much of the treasure.” Van warned instead of pursuing his line of chastizement. “He might betray us over it. The man seemed greedy enough.”

“No.” Dilandau shook his head, a slight smile that Van didn’t trust for a moment tugging at his lips. “He’s not stupid enough to do that, not while we’re within sword reach at any rate. He’ll wait until we’re an hour or two out before reporting my wherabouts. As for the treasure... he’ll raise a fuss but be content with what he has.”

“A few coins and his life?”

“I’m giving him a rather nice if somewhat bloody boat.” Dilandau protested. “Not everyone gets a bloody boat as a gift.”

“ I really hope you run any gifts you get me through Allen first in the future.”

“Frilly blouses and hair care products, got it.”  Flashing the king a wide teasing g rin,  Dilandau noticed the quiet approach of the young women who’d sword herself to Van. His open smile faded somewhat as he once again adopted his more aloof mask. Not that it really mattered, her eyes were politely downcast, but her shoulders were  back and she held her spin e straight despite how much energy it must have taken to do so.

“Excuse me sir.” She interrupted their banter, sounding as if she honestly meant the apology. “I don’t speak Fanelian, but I would like to know how I might be of help.” She risked a glance up, on anyone else, the look might be called demure, but Dilandau had been imprisoned beneath the will of another long enough to know that she was honestly expecting to be hit for her boldness.

“What did you do before you were taken as a slave?” Dilandau didn’t bother mincing words, pretending it hadn’t happened was just stupid at this point. Now the woman lifted her head, meeting his eyes with her own and the captain could see the flash of steely pride in their depths. This woman might have been beaten but she certainly wasn’t broken. Good, he had no use for broken things.

“I helped run the 405 th armoury.” She stated confidently. “ Handling outgoing shipments mostly.”

“One of my men was from the 405 th district.”

“Private Leorio, yes sir, I know.” Sometimes it was nice to be famous. Well, he hadn’t heard anything bad about the districts armoury which was good. News of inptitude travelled quickly through the ranks and was slow to fade.

“I need a quartermaster. You’re it until I find someone better.” Mentally he ran a few quick calculations on just what he was going to need to keep these people alive and moving. While this was a huge setback in their travels, making an already difficult situation near impossible, he couldn’t help but be inwardly pleased to have his countrymen around him. Hearing the familiar language and comforting accents soothed something deep inside his soul, not to mention the fact that the zaibachi were the most practical people on Gaea aside from the beastkin. They’d do what had to be done with little fuss and could generally be counted on to keep cool heads in most situations... generally. He was pretty sure that he and Van would cause more than their share of panic amongst this group. It was something the pair of them seemed to excel at.

“After you wash up, you’re going to grab a group to help you carry things. I’m going to need blankets for everyone. One per person. There’s crew quarters on the upper levels, take what you need, the crew won’t be needing them again in this life.” He took pleasure in her grim smile at his words. “Grab what clothes you can find and take a chest of treasure, something portable. Don’t be greedy. It will be divided up between all of you and you’ll be expected to carry what you take. Don’t touch any of the food. You’re all filthy and I don’t want everyone sick.”

She nodded her head, looking pleased with her new task and position.

“What’s your name Private?” If she looked proud before, she practically glowed now.

“Vega.” She replied. “ My brother is Gaiman and my sister is Rowan. They’re twins.”

Turning to Van, Dilandau motioned towards the woman.

“I’d like to properly introduce you to Vega, our new quartermaster, as well as her sister and brother, Rowan and Gaiman. Twins.” Van grinned at the woman and bowed with surprising courtly elegance, surprising both the woman and Dilandau with the show of manners.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to learning about your culture.” Van replied, pausing for a moment so Dilandau could translate his words into zaibachi.

“If you want to learn our culture,  courting our hero is certainly one way to go about it, but might I suggest learning our language first? It’s likely the easier of the two, sir. ” Her words were sharp  and laced with dry humour but her tone  was gentle. Still, i t was a good thing that Van was used to Dilandau’s brusqueness or he might have taken offense. She clearly meant nothing by it and he was beginning to realize that zaibachi brazenness was often used to  desensitize outsiders,  blinding to  their more subtle machinations.  Naturally, Dilandau looked utterly amused by her words, something which seemed to embolden the woman.

“ We will need medicine for the sick, vitamins if available and two woman might be pregnant.” She paused and gave Dilandau a significant look as she said the last part and he nodded his head in understanding.

“I’ll find some  serpents tongue for them if that’s their wish.” He murmured, choosing not to fill Van in on that little tidbit. He had no idea how fanelians looked at pregnancy, unwanted or not. Some cultures were a little strange in that regard. These woman were zaibachi however and he wasn’t about to force them to carry the children of their rapists. 

“I’m going to introduce you to Mora, the healer of the RedPaws. You two will work together to figure out what we will need for the sick and to get everyone’s health built up as quickly as possible. Resting won’t be much of an option considering our current circumstances.” He paused for a moment. “Do you speak any languages other than Zaibachi?”

She shook her head, looking somewhat embarassed.

“Just enough Astorian to likely get me into trouble. I’ve never even heard Fanelian.”

“ Make a point of learning both. You swore yourself to their king after all.” He allowed himself a slight smirk.

“Do you speak Fanelian sir?” His smirk faded as he looked at Vega with narrowing eyes.

“Go speak with Malla and Antoni.” He barked at her. “Make yourself useful.” He ignored her knowing smile, letting her turn away and head towards his new lieutenants without cuffing her. She’d sworn herself to Van, so she was his to discipline... clever of her really. She’d bear watching.

Speaking of watching. Van was eyeing him suspiciously.

“You didn’t translate what either of you said.” He stated in a voice which made it clear that he knew he likely wouldn’t approve of the exchange. Well, what Van didn’t know wouldn’t lead to a boring lecture.

“I’ll tell you on our way above deck. We need to fill Rhusha and Norest in on what we found, as well as make sure Kamata isn’t right by the exit. Warned or not, they’ll still freak out.”

Not falling for the evasion, but realizing that there was little he could do about it, Van nodded his head and followed the albino out of the hold and into fresher air.

 

“I wasn’t expecting to see either of you for another half hour or so. Was the captain’s bed not to your liking?” Rhusha glanced over at them, radiating amusement as he paused in speaking with Mora and Haree. Where they stood conveniently placed the three of them between Kamata and the rest of the crew.

The dragon had been ignoring them for the most part and stalking across the deck of the pirate ship restlessly, glaring at anyone who looked at him for longer than a moment. At the reemergence of the two draconians, he let out a loud shriek and charged over to them, nearly knocking both teens over as he headbutted them enthusiastically and rubbed his massive jaws across them, leaving raw skin in his wake.

“Yes, we missed you too you stupid moron.” Dilandau grumbled, punching the dragon on the side of the neck to little effect. “Ugh, don’t you dare drool on me! I just got clean... DAMMIT!” Van chose this moment to take a step back from the loving greeting, allowing Dilandau to take the brunt of the affections as he sauntered over to the three wolfkin, his bag of goods hanging heavily over his shoulder.

“We took some clothes for the four of us and a few portable treasures to use as currency should we all need it. I don’t like the idea of your clan having to pay for our expenses.” He held up his hand, interrupting Rhusha before the leader could refuse the generosity. He spoke the words in Freidian rather than the beast kin tongue, wanting to ensure that his words were fully understood. “You’ll appreciate it in a moment.” Van cautioned, noting how the wolfkin all sniffed the air slightly, their noses wrinkling ans they easily detected the stinking miasma that likely still surrounded him.

While both he and Dilandau had taken great pains to clean themselves from the filth of the hold, there was no hiding the lingering smell from their keen senses.

“These pirates... they weren’t only stealing treasure and dragons... they were slavers.” He practically spit out the word and was consoled by the soft growls of disgust from the beastkin. “There’s a hold full of slaves, taken from Zaibach. I’ve no idea where they were being taken, but they’re in rough shape. We’re going to need Mora to look at them and figure out what they need and how to treat the sick. They’ve been chained up in filth for who knows how long.”

“You wish them to travel with us?” Haree asked even as the old healer nodded his head and shuffled rather quickly towards where his belongings were being stored. His priority was the sick, Haree’s were to the clan as a whole and she didn’t look thrilled at the idea of being surrounded by a large amount of humans for an extended period of time.

As if sensing her reluctance, Rhusha placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and smiled at her encouragingly.

“They’re slav- er... people far from their homeland.” No, he wouldn’t refer to them as slaves any longer. They were free now and deserved to be able to put that nightmare behind them the way he was trying to with the labs. “I... I feel responsible for what happened to them... and in a way, I am.” Both wolfkin looked at him somewhat confused and Van felt the sudden need to explain himself. The weight of his guilt was heavy on his heart, felt much more keenly now that he could see for himself what his actions had wrought.

“I fought against Zaibach in the war... I was one of the pivotal figures. I killed Nakahi’s men, I destroyed their flagship, I was one of the people who stopped their emperor’s grand plan.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, sparing Dilandau a quick glance and making sure that the albino was well out of earshot. There was no way he was going to let the dragonslayer know just how keenly he felt the guilt over his victory. He might trust and care deeply for Dilandau... oh who was he kidding? He might love Dilandau, but he also knew the cruel bullying nature of the other youth. If he heard Van confessing this, he’d never be allowed to live it down.

“I stayed quiet when the allies began stripping Zaibach of its power and rights. I said nothing when they dismantled their army and started tearing the country and it’s people apart. I hated it! I wanted to say something... but I was still so angry and I put my own country first. Now... now this is what it’s come to and I owe these people more than I can ever repay.”

“You carry many burdens for one so young.” Haree said, her voice soft with understanding. “It is not our place to judge you for the past. We haven’t walked in your boots, but we understand your desire to help people who are not your own.”

“Nakahi is in agreement with you?” There was no need to elaborate that if the albino didn’t agree with Van’s actions, there’d be no peace for anyone. With that in mind, it was hardly surprising that Rhusha asked the question.

“They’re his countrymen.” Van clarified, suddenly unsure that this was really the best decision. Did he really want to travel with a mob of Zaibachi? More importantly, did he want Dilandau around them? It would be easy for the captain to fall back into bad patterns of behaviour, and Van knew all too well that the other teens blatant narcissism would likely be fanned by the awe of his people... still, it could very well help settle the volatile youth as well. He’d already shown how protective he could be towards what he considered his, and seeing as how he’d already established a chain of command... which thankfully Van seemed to be a part of, he’d have another focus aside from revenge... or causing trouble in general. Maybe this is what Dilandau needed? A solid social position, people to bully and boss around... it might lend him a sense of normalcy... of course, that might not be a good thing.

“He’s already given them ranks and positions as if they were part of some army.” Van couldn’t help but smile slightly, as if Dilandau was doing something amusing and precocious. That lasted for all of five seconds before he realized that he was about to lead said army straight into his kingdom. What the hell was he thinking?! Those thoughts must have shown on his face because both wolfkin looked utterly amused at his reaction and Rhusha patted him once more on the shoulder.

“Luck be with you.” Wait.... that was it? What happened to the sage advice? The gentle wisdom that he’d come to expect from the wolfman. This wasn’t fair! He needed emotional support dammit! “Speaking of your mate, you might wish to look into what he is up to.” Van barely registered their combined amusement as he spun around, looking for the albino in question, only to find him speaking to a somewhat terrified looking captain.

“Oh what in Gaea’s name is he up to this time?” He snarled to himself as he stalked over as quickly as he could, his mind already formulating half a dozen worst case scenarios.

Rather than look at all guilty or try to alter whatever illicit conversation he was having, Dilandau instead held out an arm, welcoming him to join them. This naturally threw the king somewhat off balance, but he covered it well enough.

“Van, I was just telling Captain Norest about how we’re not only going to take a somewhat pesky problem off of his hands, ensuring that nothing ties to him, by arranging for a buyer for the steel ingots packing his hold. I saw several tons of it behind the passengers.” He flashed Van a winning smile which clearly was an invitation to play along with his scheme. “We’ll ensure that no annoying questions of how you acquired it are asked and no documents are required. In return, we’ll ask for a mere twenty percent of the profits.”

The captain choked at the number and glared boldly at the dragonslayer.

“I knew you were a murderer Albatou.” He growled. “But I didn’t expect you to stab me in the heart like that. Five percent and I don’t tell the authorities that you’re here.” Van held his breath, more than half expecting Dilandau to retaliate with violence at the slight. Instead, he simply continued to smile with saccharine sweetness. It was a look the king had quickly learned not to trust at all.

“Come now captain. We both know your crew will babble the instant we hit land. Honestly, I should just set your ship on fire now and take my chances with the sea. Besides, if you call in the authorities, they’ll confiscate the treasure, the ore, the passengers and likely bring you up on charges of piracy. Do you really think that my countrymen will speak well of you if you turned me in? You’ll have a lovely place on the gallows next to me.”

“You bastard.” The captain’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Van’s hand edged towards his sword, just in case the man drew. “You would threaten me on my own ship?”

“If you wish, I could do it from mine. It’s already primed for battle, has an angry dragon on it, a melef and several squads worth of rather irritable zaibachi. Not to mention you’re surrounded by my wolf clan allies. You see my good captain, I don’t threaten. I make very clear ultimatums. I also have a rather bad reputation for reducing the property of people who annoy me to kindling.” The smile was all teeth and energist light glittered in the depths of Dilandau’s eyes, causing Captain Norest to take a slight step back. “Now, I’m making a rather generous business proposal with you which will stand to make you quite a bit of gidaru for practically no effort or risk.”

“You’re giving away my treasure!”

“And giving you a ship with a hold full of steel which I intend to buy off of you through various intermediaries. By the end of this, you’ll have all of that, a good amount of treasure which I assure you will still fatten your purse for years to come, but most importantly, you’ll walk away with a rather good reputation with several royal courts. Which do you think is more valuable a prize? Some gold? Or the wealth being promised?”

“The promise of a madman.”

“The promise of a king.” Dilandau countered neatly, nodding his head towards Van. “A king who has the ear of Heir Fassa of Astoria, Prince Chid of Freid and many noble houses across Gaea.” It likely would have sounded better had Van not been staring at Dilandau in utter shock, his head spinning at just what exactly the albino was up to. Blatant threats aside, perhaps there really was a little more of Folken in the dragonslayer than previously speculated... not that he’d ever admit that aloud.

A sharp elbow in the ribs jolted him back to the current situation and the king in question found himself nodding his head in agreement, his mind already putting together what the albino was up to. Norest had no idea that a war was brewing which would cause the price of this mysterious steel in the hull to skyrocket. All Dilandau had to do was get word to Dryden to buy the ingots off of him before it became public knowledge and both men stood to make a small fortune, not to mention also being in possession of likely enough steel to arm Dilandau’s new regiment rather impressively.

For someone who cared little for coin, he stood poised to make a lot of it, all while keeping his hands rather neat and tidy. It was so unlike Dilandau that no one would ever suspect his manipulations. Honestly, Van was more than a little impressed and he found himself giving his word before his brain fully realized just what he’d agreed to. It wasn’t until the captain heartily slapped him on the shoulder and laughed that he realized what he’d done.

“I look forward to doing business with Fanelia and her allies in the future!”

“There really are steel ingots in there right?” He cautiously asked Dilandau as the ship’s captain wandered away smirking and likely already counting out his future fortune.

“Of course. It’s pointless to lie when the truth can be verified with little effort.” The albino looked almost offended at the insinuation being presented. “It packed the front half of the hold and several of the slaves were sitting on them, so do remind me to ensure that they’re all well washed before we receive it all. I trust you figured out the rest for yourself?”

“Sneaky.” Van nodded his head. “It’s not what I’ve come to expect.”

Dilandau grinned at this, not looking the least bit offended.

“There’s reasons I led the Dragonslayers.” He replied smugly. “Brute strength isn’t always the way to go, but people have come to expect threats and bravado from me and who am I to disappoint them? It will keep him from thinking about what I’m really up to.”

“If he’d refused, would you really have attacked this ship?”

“In a heartbeat.” Dilandau didn’t even hesitate in his reply. “Just like he’d betray us in a heartbeat unless he had a future gain. With this bargain, we’ve bought more silence than Rhusha’s little bribe.

“Wait, Rhusha bribed the captain?!” That was said perhaps a tad louder than it had to be and Dilandau didn’t bother to stop himself from doubling over in laughter at the look of shocked horror on Van’s face.

“Oh sweet fate. Sometimes I absolutely adore how utterly innocent you are Fanelia. Other times, I wonder how in destinies name you expect to survive politics.” Grinning, he wrapped his arm around Van’s shoulder, leading him back towards the pirate ship. “Come on my sweet king. Let’s find out just what shape our new army is in.”

“They’re not an army. We don’t have an army!”

“Well you don’t. I gutted it rather nicely if memory serves. But even one sick and starved zaibach citizen is worth ten trained fanelian warriors. Come on and let me prove it to you.” Oh that arrogant, self absorbed egomaniacal bastard! Like he was one to talk! No... dammit no. He wasn’t going to play this game with Dilandau. He was going to take the high road and show that murderous brat what a real leader was like!

Rather than reacting to the barb, no matter how well placed, Van straightened his back and walked with dignity over to the other boat, noting idly that none of the original ferry crew had dared set foot on it while Kamata prowled about freely.

Naturally, the dragon was at their side instantly as they walked towards the newly freed slaves who were gathering on the quarterdeck, clustered tightly together. There was the sound of falling water as buckets were being hauled up regularly and used to wash off the worst of the filth from their bodies.

Van was surprised to see both men and woman standing together, unclothed as they washed with little discomfort or shyness. It seemed that Dilandau hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d stated that the military really didn’t see much difference between the genders. A body was a body as far as it was concerned and there was little worry regarding physical plumbing.

The zaibachi seemed to have worked out a bit of a production line, with people coming above deck being quickly doused repeatedly with the fresh seawater then proceeding further down deck to where there were buckets of clean water with rags, allowing them to wash more thoroughly. They were then led to Mora who gave them all a quick once over and separated them into groups based on the severity of their wounds.

Unsurprisingly, both Malla and Antoni appeared at their side almost instantly, despite the low warning growl of the dragon who they both eyed nervously.

“Sirs.” The two lieutenants stood at attention, their eyes forward, desperately pretending the irritable dragon wasn’t there.

“Report.” Van had never heard Dilandau sound so official and even though he couldn’t understand the language, he had to admit that the brusque terseness and confidence that the dragonslayer exuded was more than a little thrilling. Especially when he thought about how that fierce will had bent so utterly beneath him earlier, and how it would again once they made land. Of course, that line of thought naturally made certain body parts take a sudden interest in the tall youth standing next to him and he found himself shifting uncomfortably, hoping that no one else noticed.

Really, he should have felt hideously embarrassed and guilty as he caught himself sneaking peeks at the pale slender form, remembering how Dilandau had so brazenly undressed for him earlier, how they’d held each other close, flesh against flesh in that overstuffed bed below deck. The very fact that he’d refused to push their relationship forward baffled his mind the longer he stared at Dilandau, thinking of the way that clever bossy mouth had fit so perfectly around his shaft. How perfectly that authoritative voice had moaned his name in wanton abandon. Suddenly, grabbing the captain and dragging him into that bedroom again for a few hours sounded more and more tempting.

For his part, Dilandau seemed to be pretty much oblivious to the attention. Instead, he spoke with the officers for a several minutes allowing Van to finally gain enough control over his libido to force himself to turn around and take some time to examine the people around them.

Several were giving Mora suspicious looks and the youngest of the group were actively hiding behind the adults, terrified of the strange looking man. Thankfully, none of the zaibahi were giving him problem, though many of them regarded him with clear suspicion.

“How’s everything going?” He asked in Freidian as he approached, watching Mora binding up a middle aged woman’s legs with bandages soaked in some sharp smelling liquid. Whatever it was, it seemed to be helping as her face took on an expression of shocked disbelief, quickly followed by guarded gratitude.

“Well enough all things considered.” The healer replied, speaking the language of his people and giving Van a somewhat chastising glance for taking the easy route with conversation despite knowing how badly he needed the practice. “They are a suspicious people. Hardly surprising considering their situation.”

“Actually, that’s normal for them.” Van replied with a slight smile as he switched to speaking the beastkin language. “All crazy... just not as bad as Nakahi.”

“A blessing then that he is as unique as he is.” Mora chuckled softly and motioned towards the many people walking carefully about the quarterdeck or resting against the gunwale. “You are lucky this day, the gods smile upon you. Most will be able to walk when we land, though not at as quick a pace as we’re used to. Their endurance will be low, but their health is sound.” He motioned to four older people who slept deeply nearby. Their bodies were nearly skeletal thin and most of their skin was covered in thick salve. Even from where he stood, Van could make out the many open sores covering them.

“Those four will need rest. They need to keep their skin clean, dry and covered in the poultice. They have infections from the conditions of their captivity and if we’re not careful, they could lose limbs, or worse, die.”

Van frowned at that, trying to work out how they’d travel with those four. Leaving them behind wasn’t an option. It would be inhumanly cruel to separate them from their countrymen and leave them in a strange country while sick, even if they did pay for their healing. No, these people would have to come with them.

As if reading his mind, Mora motioned towards several of the larger clan men who were using spare sail canvas to make large bags and straps.

“Kiroon, Tuana, Leeth and Varro have all agreed to carry them on their travois. I was thinking perhaps either you and Nakahi could convince your dragon to carry some of their belongings? It would give the injured room and make them more comfortable.” It wasn’t even a question. Van would find a way and he knew that Dilandau would too. One way or another, they’d get the dragon to agree, or at least tolerate becoming a beast of burden.

“Good idea.” He admitted with a smile.

 

Of course, believing it was a good idea and seeing it done in practice were two totally different things, especially when a dragon was concerned. While Kamata seemed agreeable to carrying his two unconscious “siblings” he seemed to draw the line at the bags. It had taken them nearly an hour to tie the harness holding them onto the dragon, only to promptly have him start gnawing on the ropes, cutting through them neatly and dropping the load onto the ground.

After the third time having to replace them, before they’d even really started moving, Dilandau’s temper snapped. He grabbed the dragon by the ear, forcing the beast to look at him eye to eye as he ranted, gesturing at the bags several times.

For his part, the dragon didn’t back down meekly. He roared right back in Dilandau’s face, creating what was perhaps the most spectacular argument anyone had ever seen. Adding to this impression was the fact that the albino would actually seem to reply to Kamata as if he understood what the dragon was saying, giving the battle of wills surprising depth. Once again, Van found himself uncertain if Dilandau actually did understand the dragon, or if this was simply just another manifestation of his particular brand of insanity. Either way, he wasn’t about to get involved... at last not until Kamata finally snapped at Dilandau, earning himself a rather solid punch in the nose and a rough shake of his head.

“Listen you glorified walking belt.” Dilandau hissed in a low and dangerous voice. “I don’t care if you think it’s undignified or that the ropes chafe. Your scales can hold off swords! Hemp rope isn’t going to bother them at all! Now carry the damn load and stop trying to embarrass me!”

“Everything under control here?” Van found himself asking as he approached the duo cautiously, unsure which of them he might set off with his interference. Two pairs of eyes glanced over in his direction, both narrowed dangerously.

“Kamata is being an obstinate ass.” Dilandau growled irritably, the sound echoed by the dragon who was likely saying roughly the same thing.

“Yeah, he gets that from you.” Needling either of them wasn’t likely the smartest thing Van could do, but someone needed to remind them of just how ridiculous they were acting in front of everyone. Compounding this, Kamata tried to take advantage of Dilandau’s distraction and nip the dragonslayer petulantly. This earned him another punch in the nose, causing the powerful and feared dragon to shuffle over and hide behind Van, expecting the fanelian to protect him.

“How about I walk with him?” Van offered as a compromise. “I’ll keep him from biting through the ropes.”

“He doesn’t always listen to you.” The dragonslayer warned him, prompting Van to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Another thing he gets from you.” He couldn’t quite keep from biting back, earning himself a faint hint of a smile from the albino and surprisingly enough, no argument.

“Just make sure he behaves.” Dilandau warned, reaching over Van’s shoulder to give the dragon a scratch around his ears. The great beast practically melted in relief at the gentle touch and nuzzled the dragonslayer happily. “I won’t have him embarrassing me.”

“Dilandau, your people just saw you argue with, then punch out a dragon. If anything, you’ve just made more of a legend of yourself than before.” The albino humphed loudly but did glance over at the assembled crowd, noting the wide eyes and look of utter adoration and awe on all of the faces. Finding the situation acceptable, he favoured the dragon with another ear scratch before pulling away and giving Van a stern look.

“Alright, but keep him calm or else I’ll have a new dragonskin cloak for this melef.” Turning on his heel, he stalked back to his war machine, eager to get out of the early morning sun before it burnt him. Van glanced over at the dragon who was watching him with a somewhat surly expression on his face.

“He didn’t mean it.” The king stated, giving Kamata a few solid pats on the neck. “But... let’s not call his bluff.” At least Kamata seemed to finally relent and allowed Van to tie the bags securely to his body, though he did make a point of grumbling loudly, the heavy tip of his barbed tail slapping against the ground several times rather pointedly.

 

Their first day of travelling progressed at a snails pace, much to Van’s chagrin. He knew that they only had a limited amount of time before word got out regarding their escape and presence in Freid. Far too many people in that port town they’d docked in had stopped to gape at the right of the dragon stalking freely at the heels of the melef, as well as the small army of beastkin and ragged humans following along.

Captain Norest had agreed to keep the pirate prisoners on his ship for a day while they unloaded before alerting the authorities. After that, the word would be out that Dilandau Albatou had been sighted, and the manhunts would begin.

Dilandau of course had made his opinion well known regarding the possible life expectancy of the prisoners and the high likelihood of fatal accidents befalling them. He felt that dead men were far less likely to talk, and would send a clear message to the crew as well, should they choose to gossip. While Norest had been nearly swayed into allowing their execution, Rhusha had chosen that moment to step in.

The beastkin’s honour refused to compromise and while he might not like humans in general and these ones in particular, the idea of murdering defeated and bound men left a foul taste in his mouth. Of course, knowing Dilandau well enough, he made sure to place wolf kin guards around the prisoners for the duration of the trip and made it clear to the dragonslayer that he would not tolerate being questioned or undermined on this.

Surprisingly, Dilandau backed off rather than confront of the wolfman, having too much respect for Rhusha to challenge him on the matter, though he did subject Van to over an hour of snarling and griping about soft hearted idiots and how they were going to be responsible for everything falling apart.

When he realized that his complaints were falling on deaf ears, he stalked over to the zaibachi and took his frustration out on them, ensuring that they were as well and able to travel as could be arranged.

Even now, Van marvelled at how organized the former slaves all were. They marched without complaint despite their obvious exhaustion. All of them pushed themselves hard, even the children, determined to impress their idol and refusing to show weakness. Mora had taken to keeping a close eye on them all, having realized that they were more than willing to walk on broken legs if need be. In fact, their refusal to admit to any pain was a source of no small amount of frustration for the beastman.

Van had no idea if this stubbornness was simply a zaibach trait or if they were all just that determined to impress Dilandau... and perhaps himself as well. He’d tried asking Vega, who made it a point to walk nearby, close enough to hear him should he speak to her, but still giving the dragon a respectful distance, and keeping her siblings opposite the beast.

“Danger.” She’d said in halting astorian. “Land bad... very bad.” He wasn’t sure if she meant the jungle itself, which was pretty much the exact opposite of the harsh northern wasteland these people had grown up in, or the fact that they knew they were in enemy territory. “Strong live. Not strong...” Vega struggled for the words then went the path of miming what likely was a rather dramatic death, with eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out and a harsh rattle coming from her throat.

“Die?” He supplied the word and she nodded her head gratefully.

“Yes! Die. Die bad.” Sh frowned for a moment, likely remembering all of the death she and her siblings had seen, then flashed Van a crafty smile and said an odd harsh sounding word. Several people nearby glanced up, watching them curiously and the two children gasped loudly. “Die.” Vega repeated in astorian, then said the strange word once more.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that this was the zaibachi word for Die and Van repeated it, being corrected several times in order to get the pronunciation right.

Thus began the language game, eating up the many hours of their walk as they shared various words with each other, drilling themselves until they had many of the words committed to memory. The children and in fact, several other people edged closer, adding in their own suggestions and struggling to learn the astorian words, enjoying the strange liquidy language.

Van even shared several words in fanelian, enjoying being able to speak his native tongue again. He was more than a little surprised at how many of the zaibachi seemed interested in learning it. Judging by how Dilandau had always acted, Fanelia was a country of barbarians and of little note or significance.

“You defeated us.” Lieutenant Antoni stated at one point, having wandered over to see what all the talking was about. He’d obviously been about to chastise them about making unnecessary noise, but seemed more than a little intrigued with the word games. His astorian was clear and precise, though his harsh zaibachi accent tended to twist the words slightly.

“Astorian is a valuable language to learn, though usually only taught to officers or those serving on the border.” He continued. “Most never learn anything but zaibachi and perhaps the high tongue if they wish to become scholars. It was believed that soon enough, all countries would speak our language once the Emperor created his perfect future.” There was more than a little bitterness in his voice, though Van honestly wasn’t sure if it was aimed at him, or the Emperor. Either way, he knew better than to ask.

“But why learn Fanelian?” He found himself asking, still not understanding. Also, he was interested in learning about this man and his counterpart Malla, though she seemed more intent on staying near at hand for Dilandau should he require anything.

For his part, Antoni smiled grimly and glanced back at the plodding ranks of his countrymen, beaten, bedraggled and yet still struggling on despite the terrifying journey ahead of them.

“We’re a practical nation at our roots and will do whatever is necessary for our survival. You defeated us. Not Astoria or Freid or any of the allies. You yourself. A thin rather unimpressive boy in a magical guymelef. Like us, you found a way to survive over and over again. More than that, you and your brother were the pivotal points leading to our downfall. Clearly, our assessment of your culture and importance was vastly inadequate. We will not make the same mistake again.” His thin lips smiled grimly and Van knew that this wasn’t a man to take lightly despite his currently weakened state. Once he was healthy, this Lieutenant Antoni would prove to be a rather dangerous soldier.

“So... you’re just learning about your enemy in order to defeat them more thoroughly?” Yeah, that sounded like Dilandau. While unsurprising, it was still deeply disappointing.

“Quite the opposite actually.” Antoni stated, sounding almost amused beneath his crisp cool expression. “We wish to understand you in order to make ourselves stronger. You and your brother, the leaders of your country by blood showed us that there is something about you which defied the vast odds stacked against you. We wish to learn from you.”

That wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting to hear and Van stared at him in confusion. Noting his look, Vega spoke to Antoni for a few moments, likely asking what had been said. When the lieutenant replied, she grinned widely and nodded her head to Van, making her right hand into a fist and thumping it solidly against her chest, a resolute expression on her face.

“Strong.” She stated confidently. Gaiman and Rowan copied her motions, though they both grinned widely in delight.

“So... you’re not angry over the war? You’re not after revenge?”

“Collectively? What would revenge gain us?” Antoni gave an almost minimalist shrug. “We don’t have the strength to claim it and even in the attempt, we’d be destroyed. Revenge is for the strong... or the driven.” He glanced over at the melef and the pale teen inside it. “For the most part, we’re taught that the best revenge is to grow strong and healthy, to live despite the wishes of your enemy. Only when victory is wholly assured do you claim revenge. Anything else is a waste of resources and far too great a risk.”

“That doesn’t sound like some zaibachi I know.” Van couldn’t help but mutter despite his better judgment.

“Look what it got him.” Antoni replied crisply. “He drove himself and his men to destruction and for what? Nothing was gained for zaibach but the loss of our greatest elite squad. That defeat... it echoed through our ranks. You cannot possibly understand the pride we had for the Dragonslayers. They were the best of us, what everyone aspired to be in their hearts. To hear that they fell... it shook us deeply.”

Van looked away, unable and unwilling to apologize. Dilandau had driven it into his head enough times to not even try. Thankfully, Antoni didn’t seem to be looking for an apology or any sign of atonement.

“All Zaibach wants collectively is to grow strong once more. We’re in no position to even consider revenge against those who defeated us.” Those shining blue eyes flickered over to him and narrowed slightly. “That being said... that doesn’t always apply to individuals. As I said, many see you as a pivotal point in our loss, the fact that you’re now clearly... intimate with our greatest hero likely won’t sit well with everyone.

“Captain Albatou has us watching and listening for any suspicious behaviour which might become a danger to you, but so far we’ve found nothing. Still, while we are eternally grateful for your actions in freeing us, not everyone is rational in the wake of defeat.” So they weren’t going to talk about the glowing sword or inhuman strength? They weren’t going to make mention of how for a few moments, he’d become the demon of legend everyone had whispered him to truly be? Clearly Zaibach was comfortable accepting uncomfortable realities in order to achieve their goals and if working with a demon was what it took to survive, they would do so without batting an eye. He wasn’t sure if that impressed him, or worried him.

“What happened to Zaibach honour?” He chose to focus on instead. As much as he wanted to deny it, it still hurt to know that there might be someone hidden within the ranks of people he’d saved who might secretly wish his death. Sure, it was logical, but that didn’t make the pain go away.

“When we get to Fanelia King Fanel, can you truly without a doubt in your heart promise that not a single one of your countrymen will raise a hand against us after all we’ve done? Can you promise us absolute protection?”

“...no.”

“Then understand that I will not insult you by giving you an empty promise either. What I will do however is everything in my power to ensure that our debt to you is respected.” Van nodded his head, finding that in some odd way, he rather liked the straightforward man. His blunt honesty was refreshingly matter of fact whereas Dilandau tended to use it as a weapon.

“Keep up with the language lessons, in fact, I would suggest inviting any who are curious to take part. Build as many bonds as you can with these people. Win them over and you won’t find more loyal allies on all of Gaea.” With that, the lieutenant give him a crisp nod of his head then turned on his heel and headed back towards the main group, checking to ensue that everything was till going smoothly.

 

They gathered around several fires that night to eat, sharing food amongst themselves even though the beastkin and humans still kept to separate fires. After a day of close quarters, the children appeared to be the first willing to bridge the divide between the two people and Van watched several giving each other curious looks behind the backs of their parents.

Many of the zaibachi were already dozing off, wrapping themselves in blankets provided by their former captors. There weren’t enough for everyone, prompting many to share with their neighbours, but thankfully the weather was still warm enough that even sleeping beneath the stars was comfortable enough.

Antoni and Malla walked through the slumbering ranks, looking just as exhausted as their fellows, but refusing to lay down until they’d ensued that everything was as it should be, their charges were safe and that an adequate series of posted watches were in place. It didn’t matter that Rhusha had his own people watching. Trust only went so far and the zaibachi weren’t quite ready to put their faith fully in the beastkin.

Dilandau was settling Irma and Ignis down in Mora’s tent, helping the old wolf tend to their needs and likely discuss the progress of the health of their new human contingent. Van finished his soup and walked over to the tent he shared with the dragonslayer, noting that Kamata had already curled around it protectively, growling softly at anyone who approached.

Smiling at his protective nature, the king reached out and gave the dragon several generous scratches before checking to make sure that the extra weight he was now carrying wasn’t causing any damage to his young body. It was easy to forget that Kamata was still a baby. What they were asking him was likely the equivalent of telling a toddler to pull a cart. Still, the dragon seemed to be handling the strain well enough, though he clearly wasn’t liking having humans nearby and had actively snapped at several who had gotten too close.

For once, Dilandau hadn’t reprimanded him, instead, the captain had repeated his warning to the zaibachi that they should stay away from the dragon and only approach with either himself or Van with them. It seemed that even the confident albino knew that Kamata had limits and didn’t want to push them too hard.

Slipping the dragon a few strips of rabbit he’d snuck off of the skinning rack, Van gave him one last pat then slipped into the tent, his body practically humming in anticipation. It was hard to keep from grinning, knowing that any minute now, Dilandau would come walking through the tent flap and they would finally cross that last bridge in their relationship. He was nervous, incredibly so and people had noticed during their shared meal earlier.

Vega had noticed naturally and grinned at him, quickly deducing the source of his nerves considering how often she caught him staring longingly at the captain and blushing. At her advise, he’d found himself stripping down and giving himself a quick wash in the small creek they’d camped near, wanting to wash away all of the grime accumulated from their day of travel.

Tonight was going to be special after all. Their own tent... no watching eyes...celebrating the rescue of Dilandau’s people, not to mention their own ongoing freedom.

He still wasn’t quite sure what to do and hadn’t been able to summon up the courage to ask Vega or any of the beastkin about how one carried out such acts of intimacy. Hopefully instinct would guide him, it seemed to be doing well enough up until now, and besides, Dilandau knew what to do. He’d had sex lots of times... though, Van still couldn’t quite get rid of the worry that it might remind the dragonslayer of his time with Shroden, or any of the other people who’d taken advantage of him throughout his life.

Following on the heels of that thought was the realization that maybe he wouldn’t be any good! Could you be bad at sex? He was pretty sure you could if the gossip of the Crusade crew was anything to go by. There was no doubt that if he didn’t know what he was doing, Dilandau wouldn’t bother sticking around for a second time. He’d go and find a more skilled lover, someone who was less of an embarrassment.

Gods of Gaea, was he really actually worrying about not pleasing Dilandau as a lover?Throwing himself down on the thick furs of their bed, Van stared up at the darkened top of their tent, trying to figure out when exactly it had all changed for him, when Dilandau had moved from enemy to friend... from friend to someone he desperately wanted to impress. There was no doubt that that was what he wanted to do. The very idea of the dragonslayer laying there, gasping for breath, his eyes wide with wonder made Van shiver in anticipation and he couldn’t quite keep from grinning once again.

Maybe he should let Dilandau take the lead? It’s not as if the dragonslayer would complain, in fact, he might like being in charge and Van could take advantage of that and learn how everything was done without humiliating himself.

No. He barely even gave the thought more than a moment’s consideration. It simply didn’t thrill him the same way that pinning down that beautiful body beneath his own did. He wanted to set the pace and be in charge. The very idea of that fierce will bending against his own stirred his blood like nothing else and he couldn’t wait to feel Dilandau melt beneath him.

As if summoned by this thoughts, the tent flap parted and the pale form of Dilandau himself slipped inside, looking fresh from his own bath in the creek. Brushing damp hair from out of his face, the albino smiled invitingly at Van who was still laying down amidst the furs.

“Well, someone looks comfortable.” The dragonslayer chuckled in amusement as he straddled the king’s slender waist, making himself comfortable as he rested his weight on Van’s groin while grinning down at him. “You should know that while you’ve been laying back and relaxing, I’ve been tending to our children.” He said airily.

“Are they alright? Is there any change?” Van tried to sit up, quick to respond to any information regarding their small family, but a firm hand rested against his chest, pushing him back down onto the furs.

“Relax, they’re fine.” Dilandau assured him calmly, sliding that hand along Van’s chest playfully, lightly pinching those dark chocolatey nipples, watching them firm between his fingers and drawing a sharp gasp from the pinned king.

Smirking knowingly, the dragonslayer drew tight circles around the small nubs of flesh, causing the skin to pebble slightly as Van wriggled beneath him, biting his lower lip in an attempt to keep any needy noises at bay.

“Mora says that for all intents and purposes, they’re perfectly healthy.” In contrast to his actions, his tone was light and airy, sounding as if he had no idea what he was doing to the king.

Torture had always fascinated him, even as a small child. Most likely, it was a result of his upbringing, but it wasn’t the sort of thing he dwelled too deeply on. What mattered was that he enjoyed it, and really, there was so much more to it than causing your victim untold suffering. It was a glorious and total shattering of their will, bending it to your own, and in all honesty, few men thought to train themselves to withstand pleasure. As a result, they broke to it far sooner than they would ever bow to pain.

Shattering the will of another required a great deal of effort and skill to learn. Most never bothered to understand the many intricacies involved or how beautifully it all came together in that single perfect moment when everything in their soul fell apart, spreading open like the petals of a flower. Dilandau did. He understood it intimately, having been given an in-depth education from an early age and now... now he was a master.

Leaning forward, he traced his tongue over the firm flesh, feeling the strong beating of his lover’s heart against his lips and thrilling at how his breath hitched in his throat.

Honestly, if Folken had let him loose with the little king when they’d first captured him, none of the war would have even been necessary. The boy was so pure, so untouched that he felt as if he was working with a pristine canvas, creating art with every brush of his fingertips or nibble with his teeth. Sweet Fate, Van was wonderfully responsive, his back arching up sharply, pressing himself against Dilandau’s hot mouth, his lips soundlessly begging for more.

He could almost see warm tanned flesh glowing faintly from within wherever he touched, leaving a gleaming trail of light across Van’s skin. Urging him to continue to paint the king’s flesh with pleasure.

Grinning to himself, the dragonslayer gently, but firmly pressed that beautifully muscled body back down, pinning him to the soft furs as he continued to explore the sun warmed skin with his mouth, determined to continue until he had every inch of delectably tanned flesh memorized.

“He figures that all they need now is time.” Dilandau lazily continued his earlier observations, inwardly giggling with glee at how Van groaned and pressed against his hands, his body trembling delicately beneath him.

Tracing a damp line along his abdomen with his tongue, the albino then gently blew across the dampened skin, causing Van to gasp sharply. The sound quickly changed to a sharp needy whine as he bit at the delicate skin just hard enough to leave a mark without actually drawing blood.

Van’s entire body was quivering now, tendons standing out in sharp relief beneath his skin as he struggled to hold himself still... and failed. Soon he would beg. Oh sweet fate he wanted to hear the dark king beg.

“Of course, time is a luxury we don’t have.” It was obvious that Van wasn’t listening to him, or if he was, he certainly wasn’t understanding anything being said. Instead, he nodded his head eagerly, his eyes dark as night but filled with a vibrant heat which far outstripped any mere fire. Dilandau found himself smiling as he favoured the king with another playful bite, enjoying the way the already dark skin grew tinted with crimson in the wake of his ruthless mouth.

Fingers reached up to tangle in his hair, guiding his head lower towards the obvious destination rising up defiantly from the loose folds of his kilt.

Not quite ready to relent and grant the king any measure of relief, enjoying his game far too much, Dilandau caught those strong wrists in his hands and pressed them down to the furs on either side of them, holding them down as he continued to explore the sensitive depths of Van’s navel.

“Gods of Gaea Dilandau!” Van gasped out in desperate frustration. “Please!” Ahhh, it was music to his ears and the dragonslayer was positive that he’d never heard anything quite so beautiful as the Fanelian king begging for mercy.

Pity that he wasn’t the merciful sort.

“Now Van, priorities.” He teased cruelly. “I was telling you about our dear sweet children.” As he spoke, he let himself drift lower along Van’s body, deftly unfastening the simple knot holding the kilt closed using only his teeth. His eyes never once left Van’s face, relishing in every grimace and silent gasp. Yes, torture truly was an underrated artform.

“N... Not children!” Van gasped out, his voice tight with need and the faintest shimmer of tears edged his dark lashes, glimmering like diamonds. “Siblings!”

Honestly, Dilandau didn’t care what they called them, but it amused him to see how uncomfortable Van grew at the idea of having sired children. It was yet another thing to tease him about... and speaking of teasing...

“So I was wondering if you knew of any herbs or medicines that might wake them up.” He paused for a moment to blow teasingly across the tip of the engorged shaft which stood up proudly from its nest of dark curls, demanding attention and weeping as prettily as the kings eyes. “I know a few, but the ingredients don’t grow anywhere near here and I don’t recognize enough of the local flora to try to make substitutions.”

Rather than responding with words, Van groaned loudly and bucked his hips, trying to press himself closer to the heat of Dilandau’s mouth, but the dragonslayer pulled away at the last moment, grinning up into those frustrated eyes with every bit of ruthlessness he possessed.

“Really Van, if you’re not going to pay attention to a serious discussion, I’m going to have to worry about your commitment to our family.”

“You ... you are such a bastard!” Van gasped out, straining to raise his arms and roll the dragonslayer over, but Dilandau was wise to this trick now and pressed down hard enough on the kings wrists that he could practically hear his bones grinding against each other.

“Oh dear me, that sounds like you want me to stop. Did you want me to stop Van?” As he spoke, he let the tip of his tongue dart out, lapping up the gathering pearl beading at the tip of that practically purple head of flesh. Van screamed at the sudden wet heat of Dilandau’s tongue though it was its sudden absence which caused him the most pain.

“Please stop teasing me!” The king gasped out in a strangled sounding voice. The sheer desperation filling it made Dilandau all but quiver in delight, sending a rush of heat to his loins as he thrilled at the power he had over his longtime foe. Oh sweet fate, this was perfect. It was everything he dreamed it could be

“Teasing you? Why King Fanel, I never tease or bluff. Haven’t we learned that yet?” His voice was honey sweet and filled with enough of a self satisfied purr to make any self respecting cat jealous. Even as the words left his lips, he leaned forwards once again, stroking the tip of his tongue along the thick vein on the underside of Van’s rock hard shaft, feeling it twitch frantically against him, practically throbbing from the building pressure.

The king’s hips bucked sharply and he nearly managed to free his hands from Dilandau’s grip, but the dragonslayer held firm. This time, rather than pull away, he nibbled lightly along the thick base of his shaft, letting the king feel just enough sharpness of his teeth to understand just how utterly he was in the albino’s power. Quivering breath hitched enticingly as Van fought to hold still and began to realize just how thoroughly he’d been defeated.

“You’re so beautiful when you lose.” Dilandau murmured, once again tracing that steel hard length with his tongue tip before playfully sucking on the tip, drawing just enough into his mouth to make Van scream soundlessly before releasing him once more and kissing his way back up the king’s body.

Now Van really was crying for real. Perfect gleaming drops of frustrated tears trailed down from either eye, dampening his hair and making his eyes shine like polished ebony. They were beautiful to behold and for a moment, Dilandau felt his breath stolen from his throat as he stared down at the most perfect picture of frustrated rage.

In hindsight, he really should have stuck with the blowjob rather than adding in that last little jibe. No sooner had the words passed his lips when something seemed to catch fire within the king. Those dark eyes seemed to pull him in, freezing his limbs as he lost himself in those fathomless depths. A burst of brilliant white feathers blinded him as the king lurched upwards sharply, driven by the strength of his newly unfurling wings.

A single powerful flap caused Van to collide solidly into Dilandau, throwing him over backwards. Hitting the fur covered floor hard enough to drive the air from his lungs, the dragonslayer lay there, too dazed to even think about retaliation.

It took a few moments for the world to stop spinning, then another few to realize that now he was the one pinned down on his back, the king straddling him possessively, brilliant wings mantling around them, sealing them off from the rest of the world and bathing him in their shining light.

Dilandau’s first through was raw fury at having had victory snatched from his grasp just as he was savouring it. How DARE Van turn the tables on him! The king was supposed to be a beautifully broken thing quivering beneath him, begging and weeping with every delicious breath as Dilandau took him apart piece by piece and then put him back together one cruel kiss at a time!

As if he’d read the dragonslayers mind, Van grinned down at him, the expression feral and so utterly merciless that Dilandau found himself gasping at the sudden rush of desire it drew forth from him. His loins burned from the force of that gaze alone and he felt his mouth practically water.

“I’m not your toy Dilandau.” The king growled. Literally growled, and Dilandau had never heard anything sound so raw and primal in his life. “My virtue is not some prize for you to take.” He knew that he should say something, that he should fight back, strike back... instead, he just lay there, staring up into those incredible eyes, wanting to feel his hands, his lips, his teeth... anything.

Strong fingers stroked along his jaw, tilting his head up so that their lips were mere millimetres apart, For a moment, Dilandau thought that Van was going to kiss him and he allowed himself a small thrill of victory... at least until those fingers slid into his hair, tilting his head back even further and holding him still as Van’s mouth drifted lower. Hot breath ticked across his jaw, then his throat. The feel of each exhalation blowing across the sensitive skin of his throat was easily the most primal thing he’d ever felt and he shivered despite himself, a faint whimper slipping past his lips.

“Do you like that Dilandau?” Van murmured softly, his voice still rough and heavy with threat, causing the albino’s pulse to quicken. “Do you like being stripped of your power and brought to heel?” The words caused him to snarl defiantly and he arched his back, trying to pull away, but the sharp bite of teeth against tender skin quelled his rebellion instantly as he practically melted against that hot mouth. This time he was unable to swallow the needy cry which tore it’s way past his lips. He wanted to fight, he really did, but oh sweet fate, the pain sent a shower of sparks through his body, setting off explosions in his brain which travelled down each and every on of his nerves to burst into golden light in his groin. He very nearly came right there and then, and Empty Fate, Van knew it!

“Whatever am I to do with you?” The king growled at him, heat filling his voice, somehow managing to not lessen the implied threat in the least. Rather than back down, Dilandau’s inner fire flared and he grinned up at the gloriously dark demon above him.

“Fuck me Van Fanel. Make me scream your name loud enough to shatter the heavens.” Just saying the words made him shiver in anticipation but that had nothing compared to how the eager light in Van’s eyes made him feel. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one turned on by that statement because Van tightened his grip on his handful of silvery white hair and pulled Dilandau into a fierce toe curling kiss that left both of them gasping for breath.

“Show me how.” The king breathed against his lips, the tone was one of command rather than a request, but Dilandau found himself obeying without question. Reaching out with one hand, he deftly reached into his travelling bag and without looking, removed a small clay jar and held it out to Van.

“Dip your fingers in this.” He breathed, flipping the top off with his thumb, revealing a thick clear gel with a sharp and spicy scent which was rather invigorating and pleasant. Still holding onto his hair with one hand, Van dutifully slid his fingers into the substance, making a slight face at the slippery gelatinous texture. It was hard not to grin at the look of confusion he was trying to hard to hide, but at the moment, Dilandau had much higher priorities than mocking the darker teen. Life and death priorities in fact.

Wriggling his hips slightly, getting himself into a more comfortable position, the dragonslayer deftly unfastened his own kilt and tossed it aside haphazardly, not caring where it landed. Taking Van’s hand in his, he guided it between his legs, spreading them apart and raising his knees, opening himself up for his lover.

The feel of those strong blunt fingers brushing across his aching entrance made him gasp sharply, then moan in a low and needy sounding voice. Sweet destiny, he actually saw a light go on behind those dark eyes as Van seemed to grasp what was expected of him.

Before he could even give instructions, the king slid two slick fingers into him with no preamble whatsoever, causing Dilandau to arch his back sharply and cry out loudly in pleasure. Hungers normally kept carefully banked flared to life as tight muscles contracted around the intruding digits, trying to pull them in deeper, his body desperately wanting to be filled.

“YES!” He cried out loudly, not caring who heard. “Like that! Oh Sweet Fate like that!” The fingers plunged deeply into him again, exploring the tight silken passage as ruthlessly as Van’s tongue suddenly claimed his mouth, leaving Dilandau shuddering against him, his head spinning from the pleasure tearing through him.

Unlike many other lovers, the king didn’t require further prompting as a third slick finger joined the other two, wriggling inside him and spreading him wide, giving him little time to adjust to the intrusion. It was brutal, ruthless and utterly exquisite. Already Dilandau was bucking against Van’s hand, squeezing his fingers tightly inside him, promising him so much more if he’d just put something else inside him... begging for it with every cell in his body.

He couldn’t wait, didn’t want to wait. His favourite part of sex was that initial penetration, feeling his body stretch and part around the glorious girth of his lover, feeling them slide into him one delicious inch at a time. It always made him irritated at lovers who over prepared him, making him feel as if he was missing out on the sensation of that wonderful impalement. Van’s innocent brutality was everything he hoped it would be and before his muscles could loosen up too much, the dragonslayer reached over, stroking that wonderfully rigid shaft, guiding it to his stuffed and quivering hole.

Once again, Van proved to be a natural and realized exactly what the albino was after. His fingers slipped out roughly, causing Dilandau to gasp at the sudden sharp jolt, but the gasp twisted into a shriek as the king’s dark engorged length drove into him in on smooth motion, right up to the hilt.

For a second, Van froze at the sound, fear overriding his near blinding lust as it occurred to him that he might have just seriously hurt the dragonslayer. In his shock, he pulled out slightly, his body already shuddering from the overload of sensation. Gods of Gaea, if anyone had ever told him that it would feel this incredible to stick himself up another man’s... no... don’t think about where his penis was. Just think about how amazing it felt, how utterly mind shatteringly perfect! A connection was made, energy flowed freely between their bodies, linking them together on more levels than merely the physical.

“Are you alright?” He managed to gasp out, amazed at how hard it was to form words, let along string three of them together in any coherent form. To his surprise though, that already excruciatingly tight silken passage seemed to grow even tighter, holding him firmly inside even as those hips snapped upwards, driving him deeply into that perfect heat once more.

“Don’t stop!” Dilandau sounded absolutely shattered as long legs wrapped around Van’s hips, strong calves flexing, pushing him forward abruptly. “Oh sweet Fate Van, Fuck me!” Sharp fingernails dug into his back as the dragonslayer arched his back, his hips snapping up once again, fully intending to do all the work if the king wasn’t up to the task.

Before Van realized it, his body had taken over, deciding that enough was enough. His hips rocked forward, driving himself hard into the body beneath him and wrenching a sharp cry from those gasping lips. He could feel Dilandau in ways he’d never imagined. The way his heart beat around him, pulsing perfectly against his sensitive flesh. How that tight silken passage squeezed every inch of his length, welcoming his plundering entrance and tightening every time he drew back, trying to hold him inside, demanding more and promising the most spectacular reward should he obey.

There had always been so much aggression between the two teens, so much heat and passion. At long last it finally found it’s outlet and the two tore at each other so ruthlessly that to Van, it seemed almost like a montage of moments, each one more electric than the one before. His mind could barely cope with the overload as he drove himself into the pale teen over and over again as if intending to break him in half.

For his part, Dilandau was every bit as aggressive. His hips snapped up sharply, meeting every thrust with one of his own. Slender fingers clawed at the king, pulling him closer and closer, as if trying to press them together tightly enough that they became one forever. A hot and hungry mouth devoured Van’s, their tongues battling for dominance as breathing took a secondary place to their passions, leaving them gasping loudly, their heads spinning from lack of oxygen.

Grabbing onto the dragonslayers hips hard enough to bruise the alabaster skin, Van leaned back, taking his lover with him so that he sat upright, Dilandau straddling his hips. One slender leg had been thrown over the king’s shoulder, allowing him to bite teasingly at the shapely calf while the other leg wrapped around his hip. The two rocked against each other, hips twisting and rocking sharply as their cries gained volume even as they rose in pitch.

Van had never imagined anything feeling this perfect, this mind blowingly glorious! He could feel a molten heat gathering between his legs as everything seemed to tighten, making him feel as if he was going to burst from the growing pressure. Even Dilandau’s impossibly tight body seemed to squeeze him even more as the dragonslayer’s head lolled back, his body glowing from his exertions.

Feathers erupted around them as the albino’s wings tore their way out of his body, arching up over them both, every feather seeming to quiver with tension, creating a rather exotic rattling sound. Sparks of light seemed to dance in front of the king’s eyes as the pale teen seemed to shine more brightly with every passing moment. Even his feather necklace blazed brilliantly, burning like a small sun against his chest, echoing Van’s own.

Their hips pumped faster, their hearts raced so fiercely that the king was more than half convinced that his was going to burst or his mind explode from just how much energy was surging through him.

With eyes glowing a brilliant energist red, Dilandau suddenly threw his head back and shrieked, his body convulsing almost violently as he seemed to constrict around Van’s shaft, the silken sheath of his body squeezing him like a vice as muscles fluttered and spasmed. Unable to contain himself a moment longer, Van felt the pressure inside him release in a great and glorious tsunami, tearing it’s way through him and shattering him from the inside out. He could feel light exploding all around him in a liquid rush as he felt his shaft convulse almost violently inside that perfect writhing body and he wrapped his arms around that beautiful shuddering form, holding him tightly, never wanting this moment to end.

He had no idea how long they’d stayed like that, frozen against each other, trembling in the aftermath of... whatever that was which had threatened to shatter the world around them. Dilandau’s face was buried in the crook of his neck, soft shuddering breaths tickling his hypersensitive skin in the most wondrous ways. Though he was still buried deeply inside that perfect body, he could feel himself growing soft. Those delectable muscles squeezed him, still quiverring in the wake of their union and he moaned softly at the over-stimulation.

“That... oh gods of Gaea...” He honestly didn’t have words. In fact, he was kicking himself over and over again for waiting so long to reach this moment. To think, they could have been doing this all along!

“It’s...it’s never been like that before...” Dilandau murmured softly, sounding almost awed by the experience. Raising his head, he looked into Van’s eyes, his own glowing so brilliantly that the shining pupils could likely cast shadows. “That was...” It was a rather wonderful stroke to the ego to realize that the worldly dragonslayer was literally at a loss for words.

Shaking his head, the albino gave a soft, almost broken sounding laugh and kissed Van deeply, his body still shaking from the exertion. Their wings wrapped around each other, feathers stroking against feathers in gentle intimacy, as opposite to their violent lovemaking as could be.

Still seeing a shining crimson light, Van glanced down and noticed that Hitomi’s pendant was glowing brilliantly, lit from within. Wincing in shocked realization, he barely managed to bite back a rather un-kingly curse word or three. Oh crap...he really hoped that Hitomi hadn’t felt that... it was one thing to tell her that he was now intimate with Dilandau... quite another to have her feel it... especially something so private.

It was odd really, one part of him wanted to hold this precious moment close to his heart, protecting it from the world and it’s darkness. Keeping this one singular moment of pure perfection for just the two of them. Another part of him wanted to shout out from the mountaintops just how amazing he felt. He wanted to share this with the world bask in it’s glory and let everyone around him understand just how perfect everything could be.

“We need to do that again.” Dilandau chuckled softly in between kisses. “Again and again until our bodies catch fire.” Honestly, Van couldn’t think of a better way to spend the rest of his life. Forgetting Hitomi and what she might or might not be feeling through their link, he eagerly returned the kiss, delving deep into that glorious mouth.

“Van! Nakahi! Are you both alright!?” Their perfect moment was interrupted by Rhusha’s frantic voice. There was no mistaking the honestly terrified pitch or the rising yells and howls of distress growing louder where there once had been utter silence. Something had happened, something huge and terrible enough to panic the normally unflappable beast man. It seemed that Fate had intervened once again and they were going to be pulled out of their little private feather enshrined reality whether they wanted to be or not.

“Fucking hell.” Dilandau grumbled, nibbling lightly on Van’s ear, his fingertips stroking along the sensitive feathers at the base of the king’s wings. “You’d think they’d never heard two people fucking each others brains out.”

“I don’t know,” Van was still struggling to get his brain and his mouth to focus on something other than Dilandau’s beautiful lips or how perfectly he felt still pressed up against his chest. “It sounds important.” Even as he spoke, he gently carded his fingers through silvery white sweat soaked hair, loving hos silken soft it was even after their wild lovemaking. Gods of Gaea, they’d made love. Wild amazing incredible love! He wasn’t a virgin anymore, he’d given then man who had once been his worst enemy the most pure part of himself, and oddly enough, he found that there wasn’t even the faintest flicker of regret.

“I don’t hear any sounds of battle, just people panicking.” Dilandau argued, giving Van’s lobe another sharp bite. “Let them work it out for themselves. We’re busy.” Van could actually feel the wide and mischievous grin forming on the dragonslayers lips. “I intend to ride you until neither of us can move. We have a lot of lost time to make up for after all.”

At those words, he could feel both their bodies stirring to life once more as a slow languid heat flushed through his groin. Yeah... it was nothing, just people being stupid... people who depended on them, who were basically defenceless. Dammit!

“Mmm I don’t want to move.” Dilandau grumbled softly, successfully interpreting Van’s low grumble of frustration. His nibbles turning into affectionate nuzzles and those wonderfully flexible hips gave a little twist, managing to stroke the entirety of Van’s length, still buried deep inside his body.

It was hard to fight against such an eloquently presented argument and Van wanted nothing more than to fulfill the unspoken promise between their bodies until neither of them could move under their own power, but he had to defend the people around him no matter what. It was what heroes did after all, no matter how utterly inconvenient it might be to his personal life.

Hmmm maybe there was something to be said about being evil. If he was a bad guy, he’d think nothing of throwing Dilandau down and having his way with the eager albino over and over again. Let the world around them burn for all he cared.

It was really no wonder why Balgus had never explained sex to him. Words just couldn’t adequately explain how amazing the entire experience had been! The feeling of power, of completion, the sizzling energy sliding just beneath his skin or the way he could feel Dilandau’s heart beating perfectly in time with his own, their bodies and souls joined more intimately than he’d ever imagined possible. No wonder people went insane after losing love, why they killed over it.

“Van? Nakahi!” Yeah, Rhusha was really sounding like he was freaking out and now Kamata was screaming and screeching, likely making a tense situation into a life and death threat for those around him.

“By fate... if the camp isn’t on fire or we’re not being invaded by a swarm of dragons, someone is going to die.” Dilandau growled angrily even as he still stubbornly traced his tongue along Van’s throat, enjoying the taste of sweat against heated skin. It was even better considering how Van groaned in pleasure, his wings quivering.

“Ugh, don’t even joke about that. One dragon is more than enough.” Van murmured, finally gathering up enough self control to reluctantly pull away. His now spent shaft slid out of Dilandau’s body, causing both youths to moan softly at the loss of contact. “We’ll go check it out, then you can yell at them all and call them idiots. After that, we’ll come back here and do that again. Sound like a plan?” Normally Van wasn’t one for plans, but he was rather proud of this one. Judging by Dilandau’s grin, he was fully on board as well.

“Only if I get to punch one of them. Interrupting me post coitus is definitely a punching offence.”

“No punching people.” Van chided, glancing around for his kilt and only spying Dilandau’s. Passing the dragonslayer his clothing he gave his ultimatum a second thought. “Unless it really is over something stupid. Then feel free to punch them.” He amended, earning himself a broad grin and a quick kiss as the dragonslayer snatched the clothing from his hands and quickly wrapped it around his slender waist.

“Well now I almost hope it’s over something stupid.” Van spied his own kilt tossed on the side of the tent, nearly hidden in the folds of the furs and wrapped it around his waist before running his fingers quickly through his hair, hoping to straighten it out somewhat. It was a wasted effort really. Everyone in camp knew exactly that they’d been doing in the tent, so there was little point in hiding his messy appearance.

When they finally exited the tent, Van was suddenly struck with a rather powerful wave of guilt at having stalled for so long. It looked like a storm had torn it’s way through the camp. Tents were down, equipment was scattered and everywhere, people were laying down on the ground, their bodies bent and tangled in ways which suggested that they hadn’t reached their currently unconscious state willingly.

The further away from the camps centre, the worse the damage was. Trees had been torn apart and twisted into strange and alien configurations. The ground had been chewed up, lifted from the earth and shaped into unnatural sculptures. Everything had been remade down to the very stones around them which now glittered like fine jewels, shimmering in the starlight. It was both beautiful and terrifying. The forest around them had been like any other a mere hour ago... now, it looked like something out of a fever dream and Van couldn’t help but shudder at the instinctual realization that somehow, the two of them had been responsible for it.

“Van?” Dilandau stood at his side, his eyes wide as he surveyed the chaos around them. “It’s just like in the labs...”

“No... not like the labs.” The king found himself arguing as his eyes darted around, taking in the new landscape and the bodies laying on the ground. The wolf clan appeared to be unharmed, but the humans... all of them lay unconscious. Somehow though, he knew they were still alive and for that he was grateful beyond words. “No one’s twisted up.” He continued, watching Rhusha and his clan move among the fallen, checking for injuries and making them as comfortable as they could despite the wreckage. “We didn’t hurt anyone... we didn’t make any monsters.”

He half expected the dragonslayer to argue that what had happened at the labs hadn’t been their fault, that it had been some side effect of the experiment, some unforeseen failure with their safeguards or something along those lines. Instead, he was greeted with a thoughtful frown, those lush rose tinted lips pressing together into a tight line as faintly glowing eyes surveyed the chaos.

“I don’t understand this.” Dilandau finally admitted, his voice soft enough that the question was likely not intended for anyone’s ears but his own. Reaching out a hand, Van pulled the dragonslayer closer, feeling comforted by the contact despite the madness around them.

“I don’t understand it either.” He murmured. “But we’ll figure it out together.” Meaning that he didn’t want the zaibach youth to rush off and do anything rash or impulsive the way he always did. There was a logical explanation behind this. There had to be.

“Oh thank the gods you’re alright!” Rhusha gushed, his eyes wide as he nearly sagged with relief, his normally calm composure thoroughly shattered. “The storm! It washed over us without warning! What was it? What happened?” At his outburst, every beastkin in the camp turned to look at them, shock suffusing their features with a large dose of awe hot on it’s heels.

“Calm down for a moment.” Van cautioned as gently as he could meaning both the beastman and the pale draconian he felt beginning to bristle beside him. “Tell us what you saw.”

He watched as the great wolf visibly struggled to suppress his panic and drew in several deep cleansing breaths before speaking again.

“We were sitting around our fires preparing for bed.” He explained. “Several were joking that it was a lost cause until the two of you were finished mating.” Van blushed hotly at that. He didn’t want to think about how it must have sounded to the others outside their tent. “We heard your joined voices cry out loudly and knew that soon there would be silence... but then we felt a weight to the air, as if a great storm was brewing. The fire flared brightly then was snuffed out as if it never was. But there was no darkness. Your tent was shining with stars. They spun around it as if pulled from the heavens, gathering together so tightly that they lit up the camp as if it was midday.

“We pulled the cubs and children back. Nakahi’s people wanted to go to him and protect him, but we kept them away... then... then there was this roar and everything was bathed in light. It... it was beautiful. I could feel such power, such pure pleasure and joy. Never have I felt anything like it before.

“A great wind followed, filling me, surrounding me. It felt like my mothers arms wrapping around me back when I was a cub, like Haree’s the first time we mated, how my heart swelled the first time I looked into Rhee’s eyes... then it all faded and the light was gone. I could see the camp in shambles, the humans laying on the ground but my people unharmed. I... I feared that what had happened to those mercenaries had happened again, dragging human souls to the Paths of the Dead while sparing my people... but they are not dead.” He looked down at the crumpled bodies of Malla and Antoni, both had fallen near Dilandau and Van’s tent, obviously attempting to reach their leaders before the blast.

“I have no idea what happened beyond that.” Rhusha murmured almost apologetically obviously wishing he had a better tale to tell.

More than a little confused, Van looked over at Dilandau, considering him to be the expert in such things.

“Is this normal for sex?” He felt like an idiot for asking, but hey, this was a whole new world to him so who knew? Of course, the scathing glare he received was more than enough of an answer but he didn’t pull away or duck his head in embarrassment, silently demanding an actual reply.

“No, it’s not.” Dilandau finally muttered. “Though who knows when draconians are involved. Maybe we cause chaos when we climax? It might be the source of the whole _Bringers of Chaos and Ruin_ concept we have going.” He really hoped that wasn’t it. After having a taste of such ultimate pleasure, he didn’t want to end up having to deny himself for the rest of his life, nor did he want to seek out intimacies with someone else in order to avoid a repeat of this catastrophe. There had to be something else to it. His mother had obviously had sex and not sent the kingdom into chaos. There had to be a way for them to work around this.

“They’re waking up!” A voice called out across the camp, drawing everyone’s attention down to the slowly stirring bodies of the humans.

Malla’s eyes began to flutter first as she groaned and slowly sat up, absently , glancing around in confusion, not understanding why she was suddenly finding herself on the ground. There was no hint of pain in her movements, something for which Van was deeply grateful.

Moments after her, Antoni grumbled softly and sat up, his copper red hair dishevelled and hanging in his face, adding to the look of supreme embarrassment at finding himself laying down while his superiors stood over him.

“Sirs!” He gasped out, struggling to stand up and nearly losing his balance. Malla was right on his heels, her eyes wide at the realization of her rudeness.

“Apologies sirs!” She gasped out, then paused visibly, her pale grey eyes growing even wider as she stared at them.. “Sirs... I... I think I must have hit my head... you... you have wings.” With a shaking hand, she pointed just above their shoulders where their great shining wings were displayed for all to see.

Inwardly, Van cursed slightly at her look and gesture. He didn’t need to know her words to know what she’d said. It hadn’t even occurred to him to pull them in, he’d allowed himself to grow complacent around the beast kin, and in his rush had forgotten that they now travelled with humans... superstitious bigoted and small minded humans.

As if only noticing the extra appendages now that Malla had mentioned them, Antoni’s eyes grew wide and he actually took a small step back, his hand dropping to his side, ready to draw the sword he’d been given upon his freedom.

“Yes, Lieutenant. We have wings. Is that going to be a problem?” Dilandau asked, his voice cold and deliberate, making it obvious that he had no tolerance for any sort of insubordination. His stance was casual and relaxed, as if this was nothing of note anymore than his eyes or hair. It was just one more slight oddity which made him stand out among a crowd and nothing more.

“Are... are you a demon?” Antoni managed to force out, his eyes darting from Van to Dilandau and back again, unsure which of them to address. Around them, the waking zaibachi saw them standing there, shining wings driving back the darkness of the night, bared to the world and gasped in collective shock. Still, they didn’t run or immediately grab for their weapons. Whether shock had inured them to the revelation, or the pure futility of their situation stayed their hands, no one dared to ask. Noting their attention, Dilandau raised his voice slightly for all to hear.

“I am as the Emperor made me.” The captain replied, his eyes still glowing brilliantly. There was no point in denying his obvious heritage, not that he would have at any rate. Either his people accepted him and followed his orders, or he killed them. There was no middle ground as far as he was concerned and they’d already sworn their loyalty to him. He had no tolerance for deserters and he made sure that came across in his voice. “Do you doubt the wisdom of the man who gave our people purpose? Who took the fading embers of our lives and fanned them into a brilliant flame? Let any who doubt our Emperor step forward now.” His glowing eyes swept across the crowd, seeking out any would be challenger. It didn’t matter that he was unarmed, wearing only a small scrap of cloth for clothing. He was Dilandau Albatou and he gave ground to no one!

“But..but how sir?” This time it was Vega who spoke up from where she was standing in front of several of the younger zaibachi protectively.

“Madoushi magic and the will of the Emperor.” Dilandau replied, seeing no need to explain the more detailed horrors of his creation to these people. “And before you ask, no. I haven’t always had the wings. They’re new.” He allowed himself a slow wide smile as he flexed the shining limbs out to their fullest, aware that Van was likely growing more than a little nervous over hearing a tense conversation he couldn’t understand. It was likely for the best. This was no time for softness or gentle words. He couldn’t afford doubt in his soldiers. Hesitation was a weakness, weakness made a soldier useless and he would not tolerate useless things around him.

“I am as I have always been, what Zaibach needs to grow strong.” He stated, making a point to meet each and every one of their eyes with his own, watching them flinch away at the weight of his glowing gaze, but noting the awe rising up to meet the fear. “During the war I was a warrior, leading soldiers into battle, destroying our enemies and leaving nothing in my wake but ash. Now? Now Zaibach suffers more than it has in over two hundred years. It needs more than a soldier to heal it’s wounds. It needs a creature of legend. So yes Lieutenant, I am a demon. Zaibach’s demon, and I will burn our enemies bones to ash.”

Van had no idea what was being said, but he knew that tone of voice Dilandau was using and knew that he was threatening the people with an ultimatum, likely along the lines of “follow me or I’ll burn your families while you watch.” Or something equally horrifying. This was further confirmed by the soft gasps of shock from the assembled humans as the dragonslayer fanned his wings out behind him, the shining feathers capturing the silvery light of the moons and glowing brilliantly as he made some sort of proclamation. A cool breeze seemed to rush through him, chilling the air around them and forming the faintest layer of frost on the now glassy looking grass at their feet. Inwardly he cringed as the ghostly forms of the dragonslayers wavered into view on either side of their leader, lending him their very visible support.

This was it, they were going to panic and run into the jungle. Better to die than submit to demons after all. Humans would never accept them, never embrace them. They were the outcasts even among their own people and he really hoped that Dilandau was ready to shoulder that burden the way that Van always had been forced to.

No sooner had the depressing thought crossed his mind when it was reduced to pure shock. The people dropped to their knees, heads bowed deeply, many of them murmuring softly in awe. Even Vega and her siblings knelt down in the dirt, her expression one of worshipful fear. Dammit! What the hell had the albino moron done this time?!

“You had better not have convinced them that you’re some kind of god.” He growled softly at his lover, earning himself a rather gloating smirk.

“Of course not. There are no gods in Zaibach.” Oh good, he’d honesty been worried for a moment there. “I told them that I was a demon.” Goddammit! Van didn’t even have words for this. All he could do was smack his face with his hands and wonder when the crazy would stop. Really, he should have known better. This was Dilandau after all. Of COURSE he’d find a way to twist being a demon to his advantage, of course people would worship him. They were just as insane as he was!

“So that’s taken care of.” Dilandau grinned at his victory and looked over at the rather stunned looking wolf man. “What’s next?” Van just stared at the bowing people surrounding them, maintaining their offering of fealty despite their new revelations.

Why couldn’t he have a normal night? That’s all he wanted, just a simple normal night losing himself in the arms of his lover and maybe, just maybe sleeping in a little before continuing on in their crazy journey. But noooo, the insanity just had to lurk around every corner, making everything into a huge wild spectacle! Honestly, he’d be furious if he didn’t deep down find it all to be incredibly exciting. Stupid teenage libido, this was all it’s fault.

“Nakahi! Van! Both of you come quickly!” Mora called from his own tent, excitement filling his voice. It was the only tent other than their own which still stood and Kamata had curled himself around it protectively, glaring viciously at anyone who so much as looked at it directly.

“The others! They’re awake!” Suddenly nothing else seemed to mattered. Not the bowing army of fanatics, not the strange orgasm induced storm or the ravages surroundings and what it all might mean. The only important thing to either teen was reuniting with the family they’d never actually met, but both had been willing to die for.

Abandoning their previous interactions, they both raced for Mora’s tent and slipped inside. Pausing only long enough for each of them to give the dragon a reassuring pat on the head and a quick scratch. Both promised to make it up to him afterwards.

The tent, normally a good size was made cramped by their wings taking up far more space then necessary, though neither gave it a thought. They were far too focused on the two figures sitting there on the soft furs, sitting up and looking around with bleary eyes.

Ignis’ eyes were yellow, like twin suns, looking so much brighter against his dark tan skin than should be possible. They were a little bleary with exhaustion, but darted about with open curiosity, trying to take everything in with almost childlike wonder. Next to him, Irma also glanced around. Her eyes were a beautiful gold, the same shade as Kamata’s and slit just as his were, though currently said pupils were wide and oval in the dim light of the tent. Her mouth was partially open, showing the tip of a purple tongue in what could only be described as a dragonic smile. Behind her, her wings arched up, mimicking their own despite her lack of plumage, the metacarpals stunted badly, creating malformed almost finger-like nubs.

“Ignis! Irma! You’re both awake!” Dilandau grinned at them both, drawing their attention as they turned to look at the newcomers.

“Is that who we are?” Irma murmured, her voice warm and almost musical sounding despite her deformities. “We have names? Which one is mine?” Glee was evident in both her voice and posture as she leaned forward, eyes somehow growing wider.

“Er... you’re Irma.” Van said, stepping forward and kneeling down in front of them both, unsure of just how much of their former lives they might remember. As much as he didn’t want who they had once been to go away, he really hoped they didn’t remember their hellish transformations. “It means Sister in the language of my people.”

“Sister...” She murmured softly to herself. “Irma.” Van watched her savour the shape of the name, making it her own and felt a warm glow at how pleased she appeared to be with it. Sharing that strange open mouthed smile with him, she reached out and took his hand in hers. It felt strange against his skin, rough and oddly shaped, but warm and surprisingly gentle. Though each finger was tipped with sharp claws, the king felt no worries about being cut.

“We’re siblings?” The look on her face might have been one of curiosity, but it was hard to understand her expressions what with the lack of mobility to her scaled skin.

“Technically you’re our children.” Dilandau clarified, though Van gave him a sharp look and coughed pointedly. “But Van prefers that we think of ourselves as siblings.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I personally don’t care either way. Family is family, it doesn’t matter what your title is.”

“So... I’m Ignis?” The dark skinned youth asked, his voice soft and almost hesitant as his golden gaze moved from one draconian to the other.” His words were Fanelian and Van delighted at hearing his native language flowing so easily from the tongue of another, even if it meant that Dilandau couldn’t understand him. It seemed that his astorian language lessons had just gained another pupil.

“Yes, Dilandau said that in his people’s language, it means fire. He really likes fire.” The king couldn’t help but add. “Your colouring matches it.” The boy nodded his head thoughtfully, glancing at Irma, then the two draconians, not seeming to be at all shocked by their strange appearances.

“I... I know you don’t I?” Those yellow eyes of his narrowed slightly as he stared at Van, struggling to place him. “A city surrounded by great cliffs... a giant suit of white armour... a a king? Are you a king? My king?”

“I’m King Van Slanzer Fanel, of Fanelia, the pilot of the legendary guymelef Escaflowne, yes.” Van admitted, inwardly pleased to be recognized by the boy and the two fanelians shared wide grins with each other.

“Alright... that’s odd.” Dilandau murmured, glancing at the two fanelians with a strange look on his face. “I can understand him, but you’re just talking your barbarian babble.” He pointed at Van somewhat dismissively, as if his words weren’t insulting enough. Still, Van was in far too good a mood to rise to the obvious bait, especially in front of the kids.

“That’s strange.” He replied instead. “Ignis was speaking Fanelian.”

“Sounded like Zaibachi to me.” Dilandau shrugged. “He even had my own accent, which is more than a little unusual. Also... his mouth wasn’t moving right for the shape of the words.” Rather than appearing at all put out by this new surprise among many, the dragonslayer seemed to take it all in stride.

“I understood him too.” Irma added in brightly, looking at first Dilandau, then Van for approval. “Should I not have?”

“He spoke the language Van spoke.” Mora replied from his corner of the tent. “You merely heard the languages you knew best.” The old wolf shrugged slightly, unable to explain the strange phenomena any better. He continued to watch them quietly, utterly intrigued by everything that was unfolding tonight. It all had a great feeling of destiny to it, as if every tiny detail would resonate throughout the ages and he didn’t want to miss a thing.

“Hmm likely a side effect of the experiment or something.” Dilandau mused with interest, peering closely at first Ignis then Irma, his eyes calculating.

“Experiment?” Both of them asked, sounding honestly confused. There was no fear or dread in their voices, hinting that neither remembered their horrific deaths and rebirths.

“You both are like me.” Dilandau explained with surprising gentleness and pride. “We were made by magic, turned into something so much more than mere humans.”

“They do NOT need your overblown ego Dilandau.” Van cautioned, elbowing the albino sharply in the ribs. “You’re not more than humans, just different. Like us, you’re a mix of different creatures, human and draconian, though Irma is also dragon as well. You both have another brother as well, Kamata. He’s a land dragon and is outside the tent. He’s been carrying you and guarding you since we escaped the labs.”

Oddly enough, the knowledge of the land dragon didn’t seem to upset either of them, they seemed more confused over the idea of having been part of an experiment and their own evasion of the details. Their innocence made Van feel even more protective than before. He didn’t want to see the light behind their eyes to fade or dim under the cruelties of reality. These two needed to be kept safe, to be raised right and most importantly, to not follow in either of the mistakes of their parents... er... siblings.

“They’re not going to remember Van.” The dragonslayer murmured, glancing over at the king. “Like me, they’re pretty much a blank slate personally, though they’ll likely still have all of their general knowledge intact.”

“What does that mean?” He felt bad talking over their siblings heads, but neither seemed to notice. Instead, they simply listened intently, drinking in any bit of information they could get like small children being welcomed into an adult conversation.

“It means that if you showed them a map of Gaea, they could likely tell you about various places, histories, local knowledge of places they’ve been to or read of, but nothing about their previous personal identities will remain. Those lives are buried, and speaking from experience, let them stay buried.” Dilandau gave a slight shudder, remembering his own experiences.

“Celena has every right to exist as you do.” He replied cautiously, not wanting to offend his lover, but needing to make that fact abundantly clear. “I love you Dilandau, I love being with you even when I want to strangle you.” He was quick to add, noting the sudden darkening of those crimson eyes. “I don’t regret you having the body, but you can’t reject her existence like that, or force them to do the same.”

“Speak to me about what’s right or not when you’ve had your psyche shattered over and over again and had to fight to exist in your own skin.” The dragonslayer snarled softly, silencing the suddenly guilt ridden king rather effectively. “Ignis, Irma,” Those crimson eyes focused on them intently. “You were both old enough when you were created to possibly remember snippets of your previous lives. I won’t stop you if you want to try to remember them, but I’ll warn you that whatever you might have been, what you are now is better. Never be ashamed of it no matter what anyone else says or does. You’re unique, just as Van and I are. That makes you special because in all of Gaea, there’s no one even remotely like either of you.”

“And... that’s good right?” Irma asked brightly, as eager to please as a young pup. “Because I sort of remember always being told differently.”

“Whoever told you that was an idiot who had no right to even speak to you.” Dilandau stated in a voice which brooked no argument. In fact it was sharp enough to make Irma flinch back, prompting Ignis to lean forward protectively, his eyes narrowing in warning. Catching the movement, however slight, Dilandau turned to face him and suddenly Van found himself feeling as if he was standing between two predators, though one was decidedly much larger and more dangerous than the other.

Realizing that Ignis likely didn’t realize that, Van gently placed a hand on Dilandau’s shoulder, hoping to placate him, only to have it shrugged off without a glance. The dragonslayer never took his eyes off of the flame haired youth, though at least in his defence, he wasn’t being overtly aggressive...yet.

Thankfully, Ignis backed down quickly, his eyes dropping and a softly murmured apology on his lips as he leaned back, embarrassed at his display. Rather than looking incensed at the challenge, Dilandau instead, oddly enough, appeared to be pleased.

“Never apologize for protecting each other.” He stated, favouring both siblings with a genuinely warm smile of pride. “We’re family, keeping each other safe is our main priority always. Van and I will do everything in our considerable power to protect you both, and in return, we expect you to look out for each other as well. In time, you’ll grow strong enough to even protect us, but until then, follow our orders, even if you don’t agree with them. I won’t tolerate challenges to my authority and neither will Van, but that doesn’t mean that we’re deaf to you concerns.”

“We’ll grow strong like you two?” Ignis asked, something hungry sparking in the depths of his eyes. Even Irma seemed to grin at this prospect, though her eyes narrowed, her pupils becoming slits for a moment, reminding the king of a hunting dragon. Figures they’d inherit Dilandau’s predatory instincts. He only hoped that he passed on his common sense to balance it out... no, looking back on his own history of rather reckless behaviour, it was clear that these two kids were doomed.

“We’re going to teach you how to fight so you can protect yourselves and each other.” Van replied with a smile, fully aware that despite what he might say, the dragonslayer wasn’t the be all and end all of combat. He hadn’t been trained by Balgus, one of the Four Legendary Swordsmen of Gaea. Van had, and he looked forward to passing on what he’d learned.

“When can we start? We’re strong! We can help!” Irma sounded downright eager in her honesty and Van found himself oddly enough hoping that Dilandau had been right about warrior women because he was pretty sure that it would break Irma’s heart to fail at this. Ignis remained silent, though the king had no doubt that he was every bit as dedicated as his sister, he was simply more reserved in how he showed it.

“In the morning.” The king stated firmly, knowing that if left to his own devices, Dilandau would have them armed and training within minutes despite both having just woken up from days long comas. “When we wake up, we’ll make sure you’re both strong enough, then we’ll take you out to meet Kamata and the rest of the camp. We’ll get you both fitted for swords and begin your training.”

This time, neither sibling attempted to hide their delight.

“And don’t try to sneak out before morning.” Dilandau cautioned, all too familiar with the antics of excitable teens. “I’ll know, and I won’t be pleased.” He all but growled the last part which was a tad over dramatic, but certainly got the point across. “Now Mora is going to give you some broth to drink, then I expect you both to rest. Yes, I know that you’ve been sleeping for a while now, but that was a healing sleep. Your bodies need this.”

For once, the two draconians were in total agreement as they sat there and chatted with their new siblings while the wolf man ladled out some medicine and vitamin filled broth, making sure that both drank it all. The warmth in their bellies, coupled with the medicine pulling them both into a more natural sleep.

It was Van who gently tucked them in under their furs, gently running his fingers through their hair and marvelling at the fact that they were awake. They’d ceased to be these bodies they were drawn to protect and were now thinking beautiful people to him. The very realization made him grin brilliantly and he felt so buoyed by this that he grabbed Dilandau around the waist, kissing him deeply before the dragonslayer could even think to protest.

“They’re real.” He breathed softly against his lovers lips. “They’re really real.” Rather than pull away and laugh at the king for his childish delight, Dilandau instead smiled warmly at him, Van’s joy mirrored in his own shining eyes.

“Yeah, they really are.” He agreed, feeling as if for the first time in a long time, things were going to work out for them.

Really, it was the thought that doomed him. No sooner had it crossed his mind than he felt the low thrum of powerful engines and Van’s head shot up in alarm. The king darted out of the tent in an eye blink, Dilandau hot on his heels. The sounds of leviship engines grew louder, becoming a low ominous growl, causing Kamata to shriek loudly in rage. The dragon remembered the last time he’d heard that noise and he didn’t like it one bit!

Voices once again rose in panic as people rushed back and forth, trying to gather up their possessions amidst the disorder of the camp or locate loved ones. Rhusha’s voice rose over all of them, demanding order and calm, unfortunately, only the other beastkin could understand him. To the Zaibachi, the powerful looking wolf man was snarling and snapping in a rather intimidating manner, adding to their panic.

“ENOUGH!” Dilandau yelled loudly in his native language, bringing his countrymen to a sudden halt. “You’re not gutless peasants so stop acting like it! Grab weapons and prepare to defend yourselves! Children, get into the bushes and be silent, whistle if you see ground troops approaching but don’t let yourself be caught. Malla, Antoni, keep everyone in line dammit or I’ll have your heads! Vega, make sure everyone has a weapon who knows how to use one!” He said all this while stalking to his tent, intent on grabbing his own sword and destroying the idiots who’d dared to intrude on his perfect night. Van could bitch all he wanted about morals and mercy, but he fully intended to kill each and every idiot on that damn ship!

“Whoever it is, they don’t go near Irma or Ignis.” Van growled at his side, looking just as pitiless as the dragonslayer, a realization which brought a smile to Dilandau’s lips.

“I’ll see them dead first.” The albino agreed.

“DILANDAU ALBATOU, YOU ARE ORDERED TO SURRENDER BY THE ORDER OF DUKE CHID OF FREID, PRINCE OF ASTORIA!” A mechanically magnified voice boomed from up above, causing everyone in the camp to freeze. Van and Dilandau paused as well, glancing over at each other then back up at the approaching bulk of a rather large leviship bearing the banners of Freid boldly.

“Well fuck.” It was really the only thing Dilandau could think of saying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, writing a tender sweet lovemaking scene with these two really didn't work out despite my best efforts, and it really was a sweet scene where Van basically asks to formally court Dilandau before they actually make love, wooing the dragonslayer rather effectively... but it was dull to me. These boys have too much going on between them to just lay back and be sweet. They needed fire and I think that this version works way better, even if it's rather creepy with Dilandau drawing parallels between torture and sex... and enjoying it. He really does have issues.  
> I've been wanting Irma and Ignis to wake up for a while now, but it was always going to only be after Van and Dilandau got it on, and dammit those two took their time! I'm excited about writing them and and happily working out their personalities and quirks.  
> Antoni was originally an older drab looking man, but after binge watching The Last Jedi several times, he was changed to sort of resemble General Hux. What can I say, he looks awesome and I like the little space nazi. He's ruthless, practical and still snarks even when he's down. Feel free to judge me. I know I have issues.   
> I'll try not to take a full month to get this next chapter out. Though I do promise familiar faces popping up and a hell of a lot of problems unfolding for our duo.
> 
> Next Chapter: Not everyone is as forgiving as Van.


	15. Ripples in the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Freid border patrol leviship appears and demands that Dilandau surrender, but the dragonslayer has other much more violent ideas...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this chapter got a bunch of rewrites in various places, mostly due to repetition and Dilandau ending up a little too whiny over what happened to ruin his fun in Freid during his last visit. Still, I think this works better in the long run.  
> Really though, Freid... what could go wrong? I'm sure they're not holding any grudges against Dilandau and his fun little rampages through their country... through their duke....nah, they're chill. ^_^

“No on will think less of you if you run Dilandau.” Van murmured, echoing the same sentiment as the dragonslayer had during the crashing of their ship. “It’s you they’re after, no one else.” Still, the dragonslayer didn’t move. He continued to stare at the descending leviship with growing horror on his face. Worried, Van gave him a light push, hoping to spur the other teen into action. This of course backfired, earning him a sharp cuff across the back of the head for his efforts.

There was no weight behind the attack though, Dilandau’s eyes never once left the large ship as it drew ever closer and Van had a feeling that his companions fragile mind had slipped back into the past. Dilandau wasn’t standing beside him any longer, not in any psychological sense at any rate. He was back to that terrible moment colours ago just before the height of the war when he’d stood there in his guymelef watching the Freid convoy approach. Sherezade was down, Escaflowne had been in his grasp and just waiting for the kill, but the Crusade crew had captured Miguel.

Dilandau had seen his lover pulled from the ruined hunk of his guymelef, escorted hands over his head into the jungle, away from the battle and any hope of rescue. Folkens voice had ordered the Dragonslayers to pull back, their claws empty. They couldn’t expose themselves, couldn’t alert Freid to the danger poised at their doorstep. For that, they had to sacrifice Miguel. The Strategos had promised to rescue him if only he cooperated and left him behind... the one he cared about, the one who mattered in ways words could never express.

He’d felt something dark stirring in his soul, something screaming deep within his mind, but it was a direct order and to disobey would put their entire surprise attack in jeopardy. The Madoushi were already breathing down his neck after Astoria had gone up in flames, they wouldn’t take well to his insubordination a second time... still... something tugged at him, warned him not to leave.

The pull of his orders had been too strong. Freid wouldn’t hurt Miguel, they were all about fair treatment and equality above all. Zaibach had made no moves against them, they were a distant country which offered practically no threat. So long as he kept his wits about himself, Miguel would be fine... Folken had promised.

But those promises had been poison poured into his ears and death had followed in its wake.

 

Not again. Never again!

 

By silent command, the air around him grew chill and unnaturally still as a pale blue light seemed to suffuse the space surrounding him. He could see their translucent slender forms all standing at attention, perfect, beautiful and deadly. Each one armed and armoured, ready for battle. Though none of them moved their lips, he could hear their dying screams echoing across the void of time and in his madness, he saw each one of them in their dying moments. Limbs shattered, bodies cut in two, skin burned and skulls caved in.

The sharp tang of leather and crima metal met his nose, underscored by the faint hint of lemons and Dilandau’s soft lips pulled back into a vicious grin worthy of nightmares. His eyes glowed a brilliant energist red as he drew his sword in a single smooth motion, the action mirrored perfectly by his fifteen companions.

It was beautiful how the moonlight reflected on their naked blades. Sharp slivers of silvery light, shining so pure and beautifully flawless, waiting to be stained dark with blood. Soon the air would be filled with the reek of death and the screams of his men would be drowned out by the death knells of those being dragged across the realms to walk forever along the Paths of the Dead. It would rain red with blood and he would dance beneath the downpour, drinking it in!

“No mercy.” He stated as he licked his lips in anticipation. The eager clarion call of his voice carried easily across the stunned silence of the clearing. “Folken isn’t here to stop us this time men.” A soft giggle slipped past his lips, growing louder with every passing moment as he pictured how it would feel to drive his sword into Freidian flesh once more. “Bathe in their blood. Leave nothing alive!” His voice rose to a shrill scream as he raised his sword into the air defiantly, hearing the sounds of spectral armour behind him and feeling the intensity of the cold grow stronger. “I won’t let Freid take it all away. Not again, not ever!”

“Stop him sir.” Malla whispered in Van’s ear, her eyes wide with horror at what she was seeing. “This... this isn’t what he wants.” For a moment, Van wanted to snap at her that she had no clue with the captain really wanted. All she knew was the idol soldier, the near legendary poster child for a corrupt army. She had no idea what he’d endured either on or off the battlefield, but quickly following on that thought was the realization that it didn’t matter. She was right. If Dilandau attacked the ship, it wouldn’t matter if he won or lost. He’d have declared war on Freid, putting them all in imminent danger.

Despite this, the rest of the zaibach survivors took the order seriously, gripping their weapons in thin bony hands. After their captivity and long trek through the jungles, few of them had the strength to do more than lift their weapons, but they did so grimly and without complaint, willing to die on the order of a madman.

No, not a madman. None of them saw him as such and Van had to accept that cruel reality. He was their hero, their symbol of hope for a better future. Each and every one of these people right down to the children were not just ready, they were honoured to die in Dilandau’s service.

Worse than the living were the dead. Van couldn’t help but see how the faces of each and every dragonslayer seemed to light up with a fierce hunger as their dead eyes looked up at their nearing prey. Dilandau wasn’t the only one lost in the past. They all remembered that terrible moment when they’d experienced their first loss among their ranks and none were willing to accept it with grace.

Miguel looked especially delighted with the prospect of slaughter. He could still vividly remember watching his team, his friends being ordered to leave him behind. The hours sitting alone in darkness, waiting for help which when it finally came, spelled his death. Now things were as they should be, all of them together, unbeatable standing their ground against a hated foe. The Dragonslayers were united in purpose, ready to tear their way through the enemy ranks with their legendary ruthlessness.

Brilliantly shining wings snapped out with an audible crack as Dilandau crouched for a moment, his legs bending and tensing like springs as he prepared to leap into the air and lead the attack against the leviship.

The numbers of the enemy didn’t matter, neither did the fact that Dilandau’s only weapon was a simple sword. His sheer rabid ferocity coupled with the spectral might of his men made them unstoppable. The unsuspecting Freid soldiers didn’t stand a chance and Van could already see how the slaughter would play out. It was always the same. When the Dragonslayers attacked, they left nothing but utter carnage in their wake.

“STOP!” Van yelled, his voice so loud that it rang clearly across the clearing. Reaching out a hand, he grabbed onto Dilandau’s sword arm, hoping to abort the attack or at least pull the albino back into reality.

Despite their antagonistic history, he was still woefully unprepared for the attack. No sooner had he touched the flesh of the albino’s arm when Dilandau twisted around, grabbed onto his outstretched hand and then twisted back while dropping low. The action yanked Van off his feet and drove him into the ground hard enough to bruise his ribs and blast the air from his lungs. Moment’s later, the blade of a sword rested against his throat in warning against further attacks.

“Alone,” Dilandau all but hissed as he stared down the length of his sword at Van. Those shining crimson eyes were filled with that familiar raging madness, but Van was positive that either Dilandau wasn’t actually seeing him, or that it somehow wasn’t registering in his crazed mind. There was no sign of the youth he’d so lovingly held in his arms only a short while ago, nor was there the familiar loathing from their days as enemies. Van was nothing but an impediment, dismissed in the dragonslayers mind the instant he was no longer a threat.

“They want to take my men.” Dilandau muttered with deceptively gentle softness. Van had heard this tone before back in the labs beneath Palas. The deadly false calm which belied the storm building up inside. “They’ll strip it all away until there’s nothing but bones, leaving me with empty promises and lies... ALL LIES!!! I WON’T LET YOU TAKE THEM! I WON’T RETREAT!! I WON’T BE ALONE AGAIN!!” The blade was pulled away from Van’s throat and pointed at the leviship which was now just brushing the tips of the trees. Crimson fingers of energy flickered in between the flaring feathers of his wings and along his swords length, crawling like little electrical spiders and filled with deadly potential.

“Miguel, Gatti and Shesta with me! Dallet and Viole, take the left flank, Guimel and Ryuun take the right! Second and third tier, close off their retreat! I want no survivors! Kill everything that breathes on that ship and make them suffer for it!”

Van couldn’t understand the words, the captain having slipped into zaibachi halfway through his rant, but he could easily figure out the gist of it. Kill them all and let Fate sort them out. Dilandau never was one for subtlety once he got his back up. Of course, the time for subtlety had lost past. Now it was simply survival.

Despite how much it hurt to move and how every breath was a chore, Van still lunged at his lover, desperate to keep him from fulfilling his blood lust.

He wasn’t fast enough. His hand closed on empty air where Dilandau’s ankle used to be and the downdraft of his wings drove Van even harder against the ground, threatening to choke him on the dust and crystalline grass they stirred up.

Blinded and coughing, too winded to give chase, all Van could do was grab hold of his brilliantly glowing pendant and wish with all his heart that something... anything stepped in to stop the inevitable.

His wish was granted in the form of a huge green and brown shape which leaped high over the king’s head and slammed into the rising draconian, knocking him out of the air and sending him into the ground hard enough that Van could feel the impact from where he lay.

The draconian dragonslayer rolled with the impact, his wings snapping shut and pressing tightly against his body, letting the feathers absorb the worst of the impact as he struggled to regain his feet and face his new enemy. It was rather remarkable to see how quickly Dilandau regained his balance. Sword raised, wings flaring, he snarled at Kamata like a wild beast, too far gone into his madness to even recognize friend from foe.

Adding to the danger were the dragonslayers, spinning around the combatants like a swarm of angry wasps, they eagerly awaited their leaders commands in regards to this new adversary. While he had no idea why they were holding back their lethal attacks, he was thankful for it and knew that Dilandau would be as well... once he came around back to sanity.

Unwilling to waste this brief reprieve, Van struggled to his feet and took an unsteady step towards the pale youth at the centre of the maelstrom, but he was driven back by an icy blast of cold which sucked the air from his lungs and left a thick layer of frost on his skin in warning.

Empty dead eyes glanced in his direction as the dragonslayers ensured that their threat had been understood, and making it clear that there would not be another. Should he persist, they would kill him. Dilandau’s safety meant more to them than his happiness and they would allow no distractions while he was fighting for his life.

“Stop this Father!” It seemed that the spectres hadn’t blocked all the potential distractions from the battle and the voice of a young woman called out over the sound of the snarling dragon. Van took no joy in this revelation, in fact, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach when he realized that both Irma and Ignis had been on Kamata’s back when he’d attacked and were now both trapped within the circle of death with the two lethal adversaries. “These people haven’t hurt you!” Irma continued. She didn’t realize the danger she was in, she’d been unconscious when the dragonslayers had torn through the mercenaries as if they were nothing, and now, those cold empty eyes were focusing on them as the newest threat.

Van opened his mouth to yell out a warning but before the words left his lips, Dilandau charged the dragon, his sword swinging out in a vicious arc, drawing a line of sparks down the thick scales along Kamata’s neck, narrowly missing one of his sensitive ears. Undaunted, the dragon shrieked loudly in challenge and spun, swinging his long tail around in a lethal attack. The sharp barb tore a deep furrow into the ground where Dilandau had stood less than a moment before.

He had to stop this madness! They were feeding off of each other now and it was only going to get worse! He had to do something, but what? They couldn’t hear him over the screaming dragon and the ghosts wouldn’t let him anywhere near the fight! Dammit how had such a perfect night gone so seriously wrong?!

“Father! Stop it now!” Ignis yelled out, seeming to appear out of nowhere as he lunged forwards and foolishly tried to grab onto Dilandau’s sword arm. It was a miracle that he wasn’t killed instantly by either warlord or dragon, but his luck didn’t last. While Dilandau did pivot sharply, sparing them both from the sharp tooth filled jaws which snapped shut inches over their heads, he also twisted the grip Ignis had on his arm, driving the boy down hard to the ground. Yelling out loudly in pain and shock, Ignis rolled away the instant he was released, thankfully placing him out of Kamata’s immediate range of attack. Unfortunately, it did place him dangerously close to the glowing shapes of the dragonalayers.

Another attack, this one narrowly missing the dragon’s eyes, causing him to jerk his head back sharply as Kamata shrieked in rage, purple tongue lolling in between those razor sharp teeth. A swipe of a powerful clawed foot sent Dilandau into the air, his wings pumping the air frantically to keep his balance as the lethal appendage swept below him and the dragonslayer grinned viciously, shifting his grip on his sword, preparing to dive down onto the dragon below.

If he didn’t do something, someone precious to him was going to die, he knew this with utmost certainty. This realization drove him beyond the bounds of common sense and before he could second guess himself, he clutched one hand around the glowing pendant while stretching the other out towards the albino he was rapidly falling deeply in love with.

“Dammit... don’t fight me on this.” He murmured softly as he opened himself up to his lover. The link was still there between them, sizzling softly in the back of his mind, joining them intimately together and entwining their fates into one. He could feel the dragonslayer’s madness twisting along the connection like a furious viper, threatening him should he draw any closer.

This was going to hurt like hell, he was positive about that much, but he couldn’t let that stop him. Gritting his teeth, he braced himself and reached, fully aware that even a moment’s hesitation could be disastrous for all of them. This was an all or nothing gambit.

It slammed into him with the power of a guymelef’s punch, making him gasp loudly for air at he felt his brain catch fire. He could see everything so clearly despite the darkness. Every scale on the dragons body stood out sharply, every scar, every imperfection in that thick armoured hide. He could find a place to pierce through with his sword and tear the beating heart out of the beast, allowing him to bathe in the blood of his enemy! The knowledge caused a rush of adrenaline to surge through him and he felt his lips pulling back in a vicious grin.

Just beyond the battle, he could see the Dragonslayers waiting, looking so real, so solid that he could almost see them breathing. They alternated between being perfect beautiful warriors to walking corpses with hungry eyes lusting for battle, but that didn’t matter. They were there at his beck and call, their power his to wield! With barely a thought, he glared over at where they edged ever closer to Ignis, one of them reaching out his hands, ready to rip the life from the fiery youth.

“Get back!” Van ordered, not once even giving thought to the idea that they might not obey him. The spectre paused, glancing over at him as if hearing him for the first time, though it didn’t stop. Furious, Van dove even deeper into the bond, feeling the powerful beating of Dilandau’s heart sync with his, their every breath mirrored with each other. He could feel the pain of tired and pulled muscles, the sharp pain of bruised ribs from where Kamata had hit him, the delicious deep ache from their earlier lovemaking. None of that mattered, it was all dull and muted in comparison to the wildfire burning inside him, supplying him with the strength to fight, the knowledge that he couldn’t stop, not while his enemy still drew breath.

It was thrilling and addictive and he could feel his body begin to twitch and react to the movements of the albino warrior, echoing the fight taking place only a dozen feet away.

They were one. Their power and strength shared between them, adding to the whole. This time, when he glared at the dragonslayer, he knew without a doubt that the spectre would obey him without question as he shouted out his order.

“Don’t touch them!” Van yelled even as he felt the power rising up beyond his control, threatening to sweep him away. He threw out his hand, reaching out towards Dilandau, hoping to find some sort of anchor through the storm and saw that the dragonslayer was mirroring his movements perfectly, his wings shining brilliantly in the darkness as they spread out majestically on either side of him.

Their eyes met and Van felt the power surge between them, reaching it’s peak and only then did some distant part of his mind realize the danger. The link was too strong, the madness too volatile and Van was swept up in it like a leaf on a raging river. There wasn’t enough of him left to fight or doubt his actions. All he could do was dive into the storm and welcome the madness into himself.

As before in the ship’s hold, he felt the burning heat of the rage sear his mind and set his nerves on fire as it ate it’s way into his very thoughts. The clearing and the battle fell away into a nightmare landscape of twisted wires, metal walls and a corpse strewn ground from some long lost battlefield. Up above, storm clouds broiled ominously while draconians with the wings of carrion birds circled hungrily.

_Alone... always alone._ A voice whispered in his ear... Dilandau’s ear... he wasn’t sure which of them he was at this moment as he looked around in shock. The weight of his sword was comforting in his hand, but deep inside, he knew that it was useless here.

A lab table appeared in front of him. Cold, metallic and bearing those cruel restraints he knew all too well. Reflected light shone brilliantly off of its surface, but blood dripped in steady streams along it’s side from some unseen source. _They’_ _ll tear you apart, leave you alone in the darkness. No one to touch, so voice, no sight, nothing but darkness and silence broken by agony._

_Your love kills, it destroys and now it comes again to take what you cling to so desperately. They’re coming again. You can feel it in your bones. Feel the fate twisting around you. Monster, parasite, failure. You don’t deserve to live and you don’t deserve happiness. This is your punishment. It will always be your punishment. Alone.. always alone._

_Your kingdom burned, your people scattered. Failure. You couldn’t protect them, couldn’t protect yourself. Nothing but a burden, no wonder they left you._ _Your father dead, your mother abandoning you, your brother sacrificing himself on the altar of his own mistakes._

_Watch this new family... stolen family die. Warped, twisted, hated... outcasts and demons shunned by society. You still can’t protect them. They descend and you’ll welcome them as they strip it all away. Y_ _our love_ _r_ _taken away, your children slaughtered on his blade... all because of these interlopers. Stop them. Spill their blood. Command the Dragonslayers to attack._ _Lead them into glorious battle!_

The words ate into him, bouncing back and forth between the two draconians, growing louder with each echo until it drowned out everything with their seductive sweetness. He could feel his wings spread as his head lifted up, eyes locking onto the leviship with was even now opening it’s doors and lowering the personnel lift.

They’d be so vulnerable there, unable to fight or flee, unable to do anything but die. He could almost hear their screams, see the beautiful terror on their faces. There was no need for the dragonslayers, he decided. This was something best done by hand. His sword needed to be wet with blood. It was so thirsty...

_**Metal shifted against metal as ancient gears ground to life. A giant** _ _**stirred** _ _**in it’s sleep, hearing the call of it’s soul and reaching out. A cloud of dust rose up around it as joints moved into place, re-configuring themselves so that it could obey** _ _**its master.** _

_It will feel glorious, their deaths will empower you! Fly up to the ship and take their lives. Let their screams be a balm to your soul and your laughter the last thing thy hear. Herald the end to it all! Feast upon the bones of the world my child!_

“Don’t listen to it.” The voice of a young woman cut through the haze of rage and that seductive purr like a splash of icy cold water. Wide azure blue eyes flashed in front of his for a moment and he felt the sharp sting of a hand striking his face hard enough to jerk his head to the side.

“I expect this sort of thing from him, not you.” He knew that voice... somewhere in a dream... “Honestly Van, you’re supposed to be the sensible one in the relationship. It’s bad enough you’re letting him pick on that poor dragon, but now you’re playing his silly game? Stop being an idiot child and start being a king.” The woman continued. With every word spoken, the nightmarish landscape seemed to fall apart. The table split in half and crumbled to dust, the storm clouds dissipated and the corpse strewn landscape dissolved into itself. The only thing which still remained were the circling draconians, calling to him, drifting lower and lower, their arms outstretched.

“Wake up and take charge King Fanel.” Another sharp slap to his cheek caused a strange sense of unravelling inside him and he felt the madness charged link shatter explosively. He could actually hear it shriek as if in pain and the energy, without a physical host to attach itself to dissipated into the air around them, harmless, or so he desperately hoped.

Blinking his eyes, Van saw that he was once again in that clearing, watching the swirling ring of glowing dead soldiers surrounding the combatants and trapped siblings. Up above, the ship still waited, the lift lowering and drawing the soldiers within ever closer.

Exhaustion hit him a moment later, causing him to sway badly even as his wings stretched out for balance. They felt oddly heavy on his back, almost too much to bear and As before, he felt utterly exhausted and drained, barely able to stand under his own power and wanting to do nothing more than lay down for a year or two in some nice warm corner and not move.

His only consolation was that beyond the shimmering wall of blue death, Dilandau was also visibly swaying on his feet. His wings and his sword both drooped as if the weight was simply too much for him to carry and he visibly struggled to remain upright. Without Dilandau’s rage to fuel him, Kamata had stopped his attack and simply looked around as if confused. Then, as if realizing what had just happened, the dragon crouched low to the ground and crawled towards the dragonslayer like a guilty pup, grovelling and whining pathetically.

Thankfully, the albino had no energy left to attack and simply sagged against the beast, using Kamata’s powerful neck to hold himself up as he struggled to understand just what had happened.

Around them all, the dragonslayers continued to swirl and seethe, still ready for battle and death, prepared to slaughter anything which might pose a risk to their precious captain. Realizing that the dragon and siblings were no longer an active threat, they cast their dead gazes upwards towards their original targets.

The danger was far from passed however and Van knew that if he didn’t ensure that Dilandau was calm... and more importantly, stayed calm, they’d just be going through this whole stupid mess once again.

Carefully, he took a tentative step forward, amazed at how wobbly his legs were, not to mention how heavy his feet seemed to have become. The grass seemed so soft despite whatever strange transmutation it had endured during the blast which had turned it to crystal. All he really wanted to do was lay down on it for a few hours... days... maybe a week tops.

Of course, even as he watched, he saw Dilandau noticing their two siblings crouched there on the ground, their eyes wide with fear and pain, surrounded by the clear signs of a fight. That crimson gaze travelled down to the sword in his hands and realization seemed to spark in their depths as he put the pieces of the puzzle together in his head. Naturally, anger was quick to follow and his head snapped up towards the freidian ship and its approaching soldiers.

Great... time for round two.

Unsurprisingly, the Dragonslayers had no intention of letting him anywhere near their precious leader and they quickly closed ranks around him, barring his approach with biting cold and ominously whispered threats.

“You killed us.”

“You took us away from him.”

“My body rots in the ground while you walk free.”

“Murderer.”

“You don’t deserve him.”

“Shut up Miguel.” Van snarled at the last hate filled comment.

_Start being a king._ That’s what that the girl had said... Celena he was sure, reaching out to him through the link and using him to anchor her own lost alter ego. Yeah... he could do that. He could take charge over a bunch of psychotic dead teenagers!

Flaring his wings open, he glared at the dragonslayers in outright challenge, refusing to give them any ground and meeting them with the same stubborn ferocity he did with Dilandau when he was at his worst. “I’m going to him.” Van announced loudly. “I’m going to save him from doing something monumentally stupid. Something the lot of you should be doing. Either get out of my way or kill me.” He snapped, hoping that they damn well knew how furious Dilandau would be if they hurt him. If nothing else, their captain’s possessive nature would work in his favour. He belonged to Dilandau and the dragonslayers as a whole knew that no one touched Dilandau’s things.

Ignoring the way the cold sank into his skin like knives, he continued to stride through the wall of glowing blue death and did his best to not look utterly relieved when the dead reluctantly parted to let him pass. Even from beyond the grave, they feared their leader’s wrath. Still, that didn’t stop them from glaring at him hatefully, each one of them eager to spill his blood. Not even Gatti seemed able to resist his leader’s call to battle. It was disquieting seeing those normally stoic features twisted with rage and bloodlust.

Doing his best to keep his distance lest one of the spectres decide to risk their leader’s eternal wrath, Van slipped through their line and found himself free to approach the enraged draconian. Not a moment too soon either because Dilandau looked about ready to take off again and charge the ship. The only thing preventing him was Kamata who continued to crowd the draconian, preventing him from being able to spread his wings properly.

“Dilandau!” Van called, racing to his lover’s side with remarkable alacrity. “You need to calm down. Attacking Fried isn’t going to accomplish anything good for us.” He really hoped this worked because honestly, he didn’t have it in himself to manage that stunt again. In fact, even just grabbing onto Dilandau and holding him still seemed to be a daunting task. At least the dragonslayer looked about as able to fight as he felt.

“Empty Fate Fanel, what did you do to me?” Dilandau murmured, struggling to lift his wings back into a proper position and staring at his sword as if trying to figure out how it had suddenly quadrupled in weight. Still, that indomitable spirit continued to shine in his eyes, warning that as soon as he was able to, he’d be attacking once more.

“You did it again didn’t you?” Those eyes now fixed on his, smouldering sullenly with accusation. “That thing you did in the hold... you did it again even though I warned you.” It was likely a good thing that Dilandau didn’t have the energy to hit him because that clearly crossed his mind as an option, and Van really wasn’t up to blocking an attack.

“You moron. You stupid suicidal fucking pigeon. You could have driven yourself insane! Isn’t one of me enough?” Dilandau accused him, somehow managing to sound threatening despite still leaning heavily against the dragon. “What were you thinking?”

“At least he was thinking.” Irma shot in, stalking over to Dilandau and glaring at him with narrow eyes. “Why would you attack them? They haven’t done anything to us! None of us are in any shape to fight and they have a ship! Couldn’t we try talking to them and maybe buy passage to Fanelia? We have the money for it don’t we?” Her golden gaze swept back and forth between the two warriors, making it abundantly clear that while Van HAD saved the moment, he was also being more than a little obtuse.

“She has a point.” Van murmured, earning a dark glare from Dilandau. “Well she does!” He continued, reaching out to take hold of Dilandau’s arms and pull him close. This also had the bonus of keeping those crazy little hands away from his weapons just in case things went downhill again. “Besides, what has Freid ever done to you? You won every battle against them. They surrendered their country to you.” Sighing softly, Van leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against Dilandau’s. It was a little awkward given their height difference, but the albino was slouching enough to make it possible.

“Don’t blame them for what I did to you. Freid didn’t have the power to hurt you. All the hate you’re pushing onto them should be aimed at me. Irma is right. They could help us. There’s no way we can take all of these people across the Wasting. Not in the shape we’re in.”

“They held Miguel captive.” Dilandau hissed softly and Van did his best to ignore how the cold around them seemed to flare at his words. “Because of them we had to pull back and leave him. They held him, they let him die then they tore his body apart like savages! I’m going to make them pay!”

Ignis and Irma let out twin gasps of horror at the revelation but Van shook his head in denial, unwilling to let either Dilandau or his men gather up steam for another attack.

“The Crusade crew captured him and Folken was the one who ordered you to pull back. Remember Dilandau, Miguel was only captured because of Folken playing with fate. You guys had me dead to rights. I was caught. Folken managed to twist things so that Allen got there in time and the convoy was nearby. Fried was just a tool.” Actually, Van was willing to bet that Hitomi had also had a hand in what had happened at the lake. Between her and Folken manipulating fate during that fight, the Dragonslayers hadn’t had a chance. It was impressive really that they’d escaped with having only lost one member of their team... but he wasn’t about to bring that up. Better that Dilandau focus his hatred on a dead man than start looking for ways to get to the Mystic Moon in order to fulfill his misplaced vengeance.

“The doppelganger killed Miguel and yes... it was likely Freid soldiers who desecrated his body, you can’t blame the entire country for the crimes of a few.”

“Watch me.”

“No.” Van gave the albino a sharp shake, glaring at him coldly. “You have responsibilities now Dilandau. You swore that you’d protect these people if they followed you right? Well look at them!” He gestured towards the assembled men and women beyond the shining wall of blue death, each one still grimly holding onto their weapons, prepared to fight and die at his command. “They can barely stand but they’re willing to die because you told them to fight. A good leader doesn’t waste his troops like that and you know that! He protects them and uses them wisely in order to minimize losses.”

Van could feel the slender body trembling against him as the dragonslayer finally began to realize the depth of his folly.

“Don’t throw everything away right when we’ve all just found each other Dilandau.” Van murmured softly, reaching up one hand to boldly stroke the shining white locks of hair on the albino’s head. “Let go of the past and build a future with me... with all of us.”

“...damn you Fanel.” Dilandau murmured softly, there was a sort of exasperated fondness in his voice and to Van’s relief, he didn’t pull away from the embrace. “I hate it when you’re being reasonable.”

“One of us has to be.” The king replied, tilting his head to give the fierce warlord a gentle kiss on the forehead and earning himself a dark glare of reproach for his efforts. “Now, could you call off your dragonslayers so they don’t attack the Freidians? It’s not the sort of way to open up negotiations for aid.”

“You’re such a kill joy.” The albino grumbled softly as he glanced over at his men hovering nearby, eagerly awaiting his order to attack. He could feel their anticipation and bloodlust calling to him, demanding a sacrifice. Oh how he wanted to give it to them, to laugh at the chaos their attack would cause. Sweet fate it would be glorious and would strike such terror into the hearts and minds of those soldiers still above in the leviship... for the whole few seconds they had left of life.

It would be so easy, slaughter the crew, steal the ship and fly it to Fanelia, circumventing the worst of the Wasting and the dangers of the fanelian jungles. Unfortunately, Van wouldn’t stand for it, and Freid would soon notice a missing patrol ship. What with the information of his appearance on the border, people would easily put two and two together, especially when the ship showed up with him on board. Freid would no doubt call it an act of war, blame Fanelia... possibly even Astoria and Zaibach. If Prince Chid was especially stupid, he might even go so far as to ally with Basram over the insult.

Sure, he wasn’t afraid of Freids army, he’d walked right through their front lines whenever they’d crossed blades in the past, and the Duke himself had been a pathetic opponent, not to mention his laughable honour guards. Still, the possibility of allying with Basram made them dangerous since it would give them pretty much all of southern Gaea to work with as well as an open pathway to not only Fanelia but Astoria as well.

It simply wasn’t worth it to attack them openly. Of course, that didn’t mean that he was going to do nothing. They’d insulted his pride and dishonoured one of his dragonslayers. For that, they’d pay in blood... he’d just be more subtle about it. No one ever expected subtlety out of him...This could actually be fun.

“Stand down Dragonslayers.” He ordered, locking eyes with Gatti and flashing him the faintest of smiles. His second in command knew him well enough to know that Dilandau wasn’t tucking in his tail and accepting the inevitable. The loyal spectre recognized that look well enough and knew that the kill had merely been delayed, not denied.

Nodding his head, Gatti and the others stepped back across the void between life and death, their spectral remains torn apart in recreations of their deaths while Dilandau forced himself to watch. Each scream, each burst of blood and brains reminded him over and over again of how much he hated this country. It didn’t matter that the people themselves were innocent. They’d all played their part and would pay one way or another.

“Happy now?” He looked over at Van and smiled with exaggerated sweetness, turning his act of mercy into a childish taunt. For once, Van didn’t rise to the bait, in fact, he looked honestly pleased with Dilandau for the act, making the dragonslayer more than a little glad that he was unable to feel guilt. Damn if the dark king didn’t look adorable when he was happy.

“Thank you Dilandau.” Van murmured, giving him a gentle squeeze and reminding the dragonslayer that they had a rather large audience currently watching him act all soft and weak. Grimacing at the very thought, Dilandau gently pushed Van away and glared at the two siblings reproachfully.

“And you two.” He growled. “What were you thinking? Grabbing onto me when I’m in the middle of a fight, ESPECIALLY when I’m not able to recognize you! I could have killed you both! Kamata could have killed you! Neither of you have any clue how to fight yet!” Both siblings lowered their heads, staring at the ground in chagrin. “Don’t EVER do anything that stupid again!” His voice was like a whip and both flinched visibly. For once, Van seemed to agree with him and didn’t intervene with the verbal flaying. He’d also seen and recognized the danger they’d put themselves in and while he might agree with their intent, he most certainly didn’t agree with the execution. “That goes for you too you moron!” Dilandau gave Kamata a solid punch in the shoulder. The blow didn’t hurt the dragon at all, but the powerful beast still whimpered and cringed in the face of his wrath. “I don’t care how my anger made you feel. You don’t EVER attack me! I’ve killed more dragons than you can count. Adult dragons! Ugh, You get your heroic streak from Van.” He snapped in disgust, stomping away from the little group and looking at the zaibach survivors.

“Stand down, but stay ready.” He advised them coolly, noting with approval that none had lowered their weapons until he gave the order. There was hope for this group yet. “We don’t know if they’re going to be sensible or stupid, so stay alert.” Taking a moment to share a more lingering look with his lieutenants, he then turned away, fully confident that they would quietly and discreetly dispatch people to watch for any groups approaching on the ground while everyone else fixed their attention on the group of soldiers now approaching.

“You do realize that this isn’t going to go nearly as smoothly as you’re hoping Van.” He cautioned, walking back to his family and making a point of sheathing his sword to show that he wasn’t intimidated in the least by the openly displayed weapons in the hands of the approaching contingent. “They hate me here, and for good reason. My men and I caused quite a bit of damage to this stupid little country before we formally occupied it.”

There was no point in hiding the disapproving frown Van shot in Dilandau’s direction. The smug tones of the dragonslayer carried over well enough, making the king cringe at just what sort of horrors the warlord had subjected the country to.

“The stories I could tell....”

“Please don’t. This isn’t the time or place to punch you.”

“Fine fine, just so you understand that your little toddler pal sitting on the throne will likely demand my immediate execution.”

“You can still run you know. If you fly, they can’t catch you.” The look on Van’s face was so full of aching earnestness that it actually brought Dilandau up short, causing him to drop the arrogant warlord act and actually look at the approaching soldiers with sombre thoughtfulness.

“No.” He said softly, not bothering with boasting about how he’d never run from such a pathetic foe. “I’m not abandoning my men, not ever again.” It didn’t matter to him how safe Van thought they’d be. He’d believed that once before and it had led to the loss of someone irreplaceable. He couldn’t go through that again.

“I’m trusting you to keep me alive Fanel. Do your hero thing.”

“Thought you hated heroics.” Van’s smile was wan as he met Dilandau’s crimson gaze, realizing just how precarious their situation actually was, and the amount of trust being put in him.

“Convince me otherwise.”

“No one is going to hurt you.” Ignis growled softly, looking at the two draconians, his golden eyes glittering with all of the determination of someone who didn’t fully understand the enormity of the odds stacked against them.

“Yeah.” Irma nodded her head, watching the soldiers with open suspicion. “We protect each other no matter what... right?” She looked back at Van and Dilandau, her voice filled with utter trust and hopefulness.

“No one is getting hurt. Not if I have anything to say about it.” As he spoke, Van squared his shoulders, gave his wings a slight flap to knock away feathers which had been loosened during the scuffle and stepped forward, his hands held at his sides and his eyes fixed on the leader of the group.

He was a tall man with a solid muscular build, tan skin glowing with health beneath his light armour. Like most freidian men, his head was freshly shaved, making his dark eyes stand out sharply. Moving with the ease of one who is confident in their strength and purpose, he approached the group, sword drawn and ready, no doubt fully prepared to fight the legendary enemy of his people.

Behind him were six other men, equally as large and well built, their eyes burning for a fight. However, when Van gave his wings a flick, sending loose feathers drifting free, their confident approach faltered. Several of the soldiers shared cautious and confused glances with each other and many of the swords lowered slightly.

Belatedly, Van remembered that Freid all but worshipped the people of Atlantis, doing their best to follow the wisdom and teachings of the long lost world. To see not just one, but two draconians standing there in the clearing had to be quite a shock, especially as they realized that one of them was the very man they’d come to capture.

“Dilandau Albatou. You will remand yourself into our custody or face the consequences!” The leader spoke in clear though accented astorian, and to his credit, his voice didn’t even waver as he addressed the dragonslayer, raising his sword in warning of what would happen should he resist the order. Behind him, his men weren’t quite so enthusiastic. Their eyes darted from Van to Dilandau, then back again, unsure exactly how to proceed.

Ever the predator, Dilandau grinned as he scented blood in the water and stepped forward, a wide and dangerous grip spreading across his face as he flexed his wings with an exaggerated movement. It seemed that Van wasn’t the only one to know about Freidian religion... though most likely the dragonslayer had learned this from Folken.

“Will I now?” The albino all but purred in that menacing yet seductively mocking tone of voice he loved to use to unhinge his enemies. “By what right do you claim dominion over me?” His wings rose up, shining brilliantly in the darkness of the night in clear challenge to their beliefs while behind him, Kamata hissed menacingly, shifting into a more aggressive crouch, ready to defend his pack.

“Dilandau, you promised not to provoke them.” Van spared the dragonslayer a quick glare of warning. “Remember our priorities.” It was a low blow but seemed to work seeing as the albino’s wings snapped shut and he growled out something in a low voice in zaibachi. Van was rather sure it wasn’t complimentary.

Ignoring the irate teenager, the king focused his attention on the guards, specifically their leader.

“I’m King Van Slanzer Fanel of Fanelia.” He stated in his most commanding voice, putting every ounce of royal assertiveness behind his words as he could and acting as if he was standing there in full regalia atop of Escaflowne, rather than half naked and still tousled from his earlier... activities. “We intend no harm to your country and are seeking passage through your lands to Fanelia. The people with me are not soldiers and we are willing to pay for our passage if required.”

If anything, his words seemed to have even further confused the leader of the group who continued to look at Van, then Dilandau as if trying to figure out if they were real, or some sort of strange dream.

“You’re... you’re children of Atlantis....” He finally stated, his voice a mixture of wariness and awe. At Van’s side, Dilandau snickered maliciously, enjoying the man’s discomfiture.

“What gave it away?” The albino sneered softly, only to be quickly silenced by another glare from Van.

“Yes, we are, and we mean no disrespect or harm to your land. We have nothing but great respect for Freid and it’s citizens. I ask in the name of Duke Chid, grant us passage to my kingdom.”

“That’s Dilandau Albatou.” The man continued, still struggling through his shock to put everything together. “And those... are zaibach people...” The point of his sword motioned towards the gathered survivors, his tone growing more than a little suspicious. Van couldn’t exactly blame him. It really didn’t look good on their part. “But... you’re draconians... How is Zaibach’s Crimson Demon one of the Sacred Ones?”

This time Van gave Dilandau a sharp nudge with his elbow, silencing the venomous reply before it could pass the dragonslayers lips. Yes, it earned him a glare, but was likely worth it in the end.

“How dare you impersonate one of the sacred children of Atlantis.”

“Impersonate?” This time Dilandau slipped away from Van too quickly to be silenced by a jab and the king swore softly under his breath. “Do these look fake to you?” The dragonslayer sneered, his wings flaring out widely in an aggressive display, causing several of the guards to take a step back, their hands nervously clutching at their weapons. “Should I perhaps fly up to your pathetic little ship and rip it from the sky? Would that be a sufficient display of my power?” This couldn’t be the same man who’d so neatly played King Aston into a corner little more than a colour ago. There was simply no way.

“Your lack of faith disturbs me. What sort of man looks upon the face of his god and speaks words of doubt?”

“Dilandau shut the hell up!” Van grabbed onto the dragonslayer’s shoulder and pulled him back roughly, sparing a quick moment to flash him a warning glare. This was NOT how one was supposed to open up diplomatic proceedings! Ugh, at this rate, he was going to need a muzzle for the other youth. Even the damn dragon was being better behaved! “I told you to let me speak, so keep your mouth shut for a few minutes and pretend to act like a sane human being.” Alright, so Van wasn’t at his diplomatic best either, but at least he wasn’t threatening some sort of divine retribution on the poor man. Of course, divine wrath was quickly becoming a more viable solution with every passing moment.

Small miracle, Dilandau did seem to fall silent, though he did take the time to match Van’s glare with one of his own, warning that the good behaviour was temporary at best.

Knowing that he was working with borrowed time, the darker teen stepped forward, allowing his wings to spread slightly, handily shoving Dilandau back towards the dragon who gods willing would sit on him.

“We have no quarrel here.”

“Speak for yourself.” Dilandau muttered softly behind him, prompting Van to discreetly swat him with the broad flat of his wing.

“All we seek is passage to Fanelia.” Van held the gaze of the groups leader, hoping that the man would see past Dilandau’s mouthiness and remember that he was speaking to a king who happened to be closely allied with their country. The more quickly and quietly they could settle this, the better. The longer this took, the greater the chance of Dilandau causing some sort of scene despite his promises to the contrary.

“We have no quarrel with Fanelia and its king.” The commander bowed respectfully to Van though as he straightened, his face grew hard and resolute. “However the Demon will be taken into our custody for numerous war crimes.” At his words, the men with him seemed to regather their wits and pulled their weapons back into more aggressive positions, causing Ignis to groan softly even as Kamata issued another loud hiss of warning. “There shall be no forgiveness nor leniency for his crimes.” Well, this was going downhill fast, forcing Van to have to scramble to explain themselves.

“Dilandau is a draconian, a child of Atlantis.” Van confirmed, wishing he didn’t have to play that card. The last thing he wanted to do was give the albino any sort of mystical influence with the religions of Freid. Who knew what damage he’d do in the name of his own amusement. “He was under the control of evil sorcerers, forced to do their bidding. They sought to claim us both from Astoria, but we’ve recently escaped them and now seek to regroup with our allies. Please, help us Commander.”

As icing on the cake, Van bowed his head elegantly, his wings lowering respectfully. It was hard to ignore the disgusted snort from Dilandau, but he refrained from kicking his lover... barely.

The commander looked torn. It was a fantastical story that only an idiot would believe... if he didn’t have two draconians standing there in front of him, legends made flesh. Van could practically feel the turmoil rolling off of the man as he struggled to do the right thing. Honestly, he didn’t envy the man’s position at all. On one hand, he was committing political suicide, on the other, damning his soul for eternity from enlightenment... all because of Dilandau. The dragonslayer was likely loving this.

“You can stop grinning anytime now.” He grumbled softly over his shoulder, fully aware of the expression on the pale youth’s face.

“Are you kidding me?” Dilandau snickered back. “The man’s practically in tears! Ignis, I bet you twenty gidaru that he drops to his knees and tries to take his life in atonement.”

“....no... no thank you... I’ll pass.” Oh good, it was nice to know that their kids hadn’t inherited Dilandau’s sociopathic tendencies.

“You will come with us.” The commander stated boldly, taking a step forward, only to be halted by a loud warning hiss from Kamata. Both Van and Dilandau looked up at the man, shocked by the suggestion. “I will take you to Duke Chid and he shall decide how to proceed.”

“I am NOT going to see that little pant wetting runt.” Dilandau hissed venomously. “Seriously, the little rodent’s balls haven’t even dropped yet. There’s no way I’m letting the little coward have a say in my life.”

“Dilandau... shut the hell up. Seriously, you’re going to get us all killed. If you can’t be quiet for yourself, do it for Irma and Ignis.” Well, that got the other teens attention and he gave Van a rather impressed glare.

“Well played Fanel. Good shot.” He gave his head a slight nod, his wings folding in tightly against his back. “Alright, I’ll behave and not cause trouble, but if one of them dares to so much as touch me, I’m cutting off their hand.”

“You will not. If anyone causes you any trouble, you’ll speak to me. Do try to remember that I’m a king and you’re currently under my protection.” Backing up his words with actions, Van held out his hand, looking pointedly at the sword hanging from Dilandau’s hip.

“... You can’t be serious.” The Dragonslayer growled softly, challenge flaring in his eyes.

“I am.” Van replied, refusing to back down. “I know you Albatou. You’re already on edge, all it’s going to take is someone making a snide remark and you’ll attack them. I won’t have everyone’s safety resting on your temperament.” The two held each others glares for a long tense moment. “Look at your history Dilandau. You know I’m right.”

For a moment, it looked like Dilandau might actually fight him on that, but he glanced back at the churned up ground of the clearing and heaved a rather heavy and disgusted sigh before obediently unbuckling his sword belt and handing it to Van.

“Ugh, I regret this already.”

“Thank you.” He truly meant it with all his heart, but it was obvious that the dragonslayer was in no mood for platitudes.

“Whatever. It’s all on your head now Fanel. Don’t fuck up.” Dammit, he’d hug the warlord right now if it didn’t mean he’d likely get punched in the face. Still, that didn’t stop him from grinning widely in victory as he turned to look at the commander.

“We accept your generous offer. Your men will help begin loading the camp onto the ship.” He felt bad for hitting the man with this, but knew that he had to keep plowing forward while the man was off balance. “Captain Albatou will share quarters with me, everyone else will be able to divide up among themselves. As for the dragon, it’s best that he stays in the ship’s hold. He likely won’t fit anywhere else... and its best not to have him trying to squeeze through the hallways.”

“Uh... what?” It wasn’t just the commander who was shocked now. The men behind him were murmuring in confusion, wondering how exactly their arrest of a notorious criminal had turned into them becoming a ferry service for zaibach.

“These people are under our protection and we will not be leaving them behind. We’ve given our word as Children of Atlantis.” Alright, so that was a sneaky and rather dishonourable move on his part, but Van felt no regret. Keeping everyone safe was his main priority and he intended to do just that.

“You... want us to put a dragon on a leviship?”

“What’s the matter commander? Scared?” Dilandau edged in slyly. “I managed to get him onto one without a problem.” Granted, the dragon might not be too thrilled to hop onto another one after how its last trip had ended, but there was no need to point that out.

“It’s best if the dragon goes up with Captain Albatou.” Van explained. “The two of them help keep each other calm.” Yah, the commander was clearly out of his depth. Rather than arguing, the man simply nodded his head, looking more than a little dazed with it all.

“Yes... of course...” He murmured, risking a glance back at his subordinates who simply shrugged, offering little help. “... Go help them pack up camp!” The order was barked out, showing that the man was beginning to realize how he looked. It likely wasn’t helped by Dilandau’s soft snickering.

 

One would have thought that being aboard the ship would have meant that they could finally relax. Van really REALLY wanted to relax. Sharing in Dilandau’s madness had been exhausting and really, he’d had a rather long few days with very little sleep. Forget that, it had been a long colour. Now, for the first time he actually felt halfway safe. Freid were close allies, he was heading towards his friend Chid and soon they would all be on their way to Fanelia!

Just the thought of breathing that familiar air, seeing friendly faces and knowing that for a few minutes at least, the madness would stop was an intoxicating dream. Unfortunately, it was going to stay a dream for a while longer.

Naturally, Dilandau utterly ignored the quarters set aside for them, insisting on taking his lieutenants on a tour of the ship, inspecting every room his people would be staying in and ensuring that they were safe, secure and most importantly that they were going to be cared for. The poor guards assigned to “protect” them were forced to play tour guide, answering every one of the dragonslayer’s seemingly endless questions and following them around tirelessly. More than once, Van caught the guards shooting dark looks at the captain’s back, no doubt wondering if this was all some sort of elaborate trick or trap.

The zaibachi people were of course ordered to hand over their weapons upon entering the ship. For some strange reason the Freidian soldiers didn’t like the idea of being seriously outnumbered by former enemies, even if they were mere wisps of their former selves. Their numbers were bad enough, allowing them to remain armed was sheer madness.

Unsurprisingly, that didn’t go over well at all with the former slaves and the majority of them looked more than ready to attempt to take over the ship themselves rather than risk becoming captives once more. Surprisingly, with no prompting on Van’s part, Dilandau stepped forward and barked out several sharp commands in zaibachi.

Everyone stiffened in surprise at his orders, but obeyed... some more reluctantly than others. One larger man glared angrily at the guards, his hands tightening their grip on the handle of his sword rather than sheathing the weapon. The instant the young captain saw this, he stalked over to the man and without pause, grabbed onto his arm and kicked him in the stomach hard enough to send him to the floor, gasping for air. No one attempted to intervene as Dilandau neatly pulled the weapon out of the downed man’s hand and gently placed it against his victim’s throat.

Furious, Van moved to step forward and stop this abuse, but Antoni hand out a hand, blocking the king and shooting him a sidelong look, giving his head a slight shake. He remembered the dragonslayer’s warnings that disobedience was to be met with immediate violence and cringed as the sound of a fist colliding with a jaw filled the room, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. The man was out cold, before he could have even thought of raising a hand in self defence. The people around him hadn’t so much as blinked or moved in his aid. They simply watched as Dilandau sheathed the sword and then walked over to the nearest guard and pointedly handed it over.

As horrified and stunned as both he and the guards were by the explosive violence; Van had to admit that it had made one hell of an effective impression on the group. This time there was no hesitation as people lined up to hand over their weapons and more shockingly, all of them looked at the albino with utmost confidence rather than sullen resentment. They had utter faith that he would keep them safe, they could trust in his strength.

Van suddenly felt the weight of responsibility press down on him as he realized that while these people had placed their faith and trust in Dilandau, he’d in turn done that with Van, handing over his own sword at the king’s command. If anything happened to any of them, it was all on his head. Suddenly heading into Freid to see the young duke didn’t feel quite as brilliant as he’d previously thought.

“I had not expected them to disarm so meekly” One of the guards quietly murmured to his companion, neither of the Freidians daring to take their eyes off the pale youth who was supervising the disarming of his people. “I’ve heard that the people of zaibach would rather give up their wives and children rather than their weapons.”

“Hmph, would you want to challenge that demon?” The other replied softly. “Sweet wings of the Ancients, if Zaibach can taint one of the Sacred Children of Atlantis, what other foul evils might they have committed with their vile magics?”

“Don’t try to make enemies out of allies.” Van shot in their direction, feeling his wings rise aggressively at their words and wanting to defend Dilandau who likely had no clue what they were even saying about him. “He’s here in good faith.”

“With all due respect your Highness,” The first guard stated boldly, giving the albino another wary glance. “Zaibach always enters a country _in good faith._ Then they conquer and destroy.” It was rather hard to dispute that given the countries track record in that regard. The guards were right to be suspicious, after all, they had no knowledge of what the two had been through... Oh gods of Gaea... what they’d been through... Basram was likely actively searching for them now and would have seen the flash of light just like Freid had! They might as well have sent up bloody flares announcing their presence!

“Where is your ship’s captain!?” Van spun around to face the two guards, his sudden alarm causing both men to reach for their swords out of habit. In a flash, Dilandau was there, wings arching behind his back and eyes blazing in warning as he prepared to defend his former nemesis from possible attack.

“Stand down!” Van practically yelled at the dragonslayer, knowing that the albino would most likely attack first and ask questions later. “They didn’t do anything.” He clarified in a somewhat calmer voice, hoping that he hadn’t just made matters worse with the ever volatile teenager. “I just realized that if Freid saw our lightshow....” His voice trailed off, but no further words were needed as Dilandau’s eyes widened.

“We need to get out of here!” The dragonslayer hissed, not even sparing the guards a glance as he stalked out of the room, forcing everyone to chase after him lest they let him wander up to the bridge on his own. The look on the guards faces would have been delightfully comical had it not been for the dire situation. It didn’t even occur to either of them to stop him until the albino had already exited the room and headed down the hallway, leaving everyone scrambling after him.

He made good time all things considered and by the time the group caught up with him, he’d already knocked out two guards who happened to be guarding the doors to the bridge. Van paused just long enough to ensure that then men laying there were in fact still alive and amazingly, still possessing their weapons before bursting through the doors just in time to see Dilandau yelling in the captain’s face despite the five swords pointed at his vitals.

“Dammit Van, what took you so long! This moron _apparently_ doesn’t understand basrami! Explain to this jackass that we need to get moving!” Those crimson eyes never wavered from the ships captain’s as Van took a deep breath, thanking every Gaean god that the other teen hadn’t grabbed a weapon on his way in. Granted, from what he’d seen of the other youth fight, he likely didn’t need it.

“Your Highness, do tell this abomination that he is not permitted on the bridge and if he doesn’t leave immediately, I will have him bound in chains and dragged to the brig where he belongs.” The ship captain growled ominously in freidian, a rather fortuitous fact seeing as how Van was rather sure that being called an abomination wouldn’t end well for anyone.

He was a rather unimpressive man when compared to the sheer power of Voris or charisma like the late Duke but there was something about the tall thin man which warned that he wasn’t one to be trifled with. Though dressed in the light loose linen trousers and tight boiled leather chest plate of the Freid military, Van could see whipcord muscle covering his body as well as several scars on his arms from old sword wounds. There was also a calm and collected strength to his stare which allowed him to meet the spitting snarling dragonslayer captain without losing his cool the way most would. Granted, the man also had a hand on his sword and though still sheathed, Van had no doubt that this captain was skilled in it’s use.

“Captain, I apologize for the intrusion.” Van blurted out, doing his best to be diplomatic even though his every instinct was screaming at him to run. “This is hardly how I hoped we would be introduced, but this is a matter of grave urgency.” He could already feel those needles boring into his flesh and bones, feel the incisions of those knives...It was all he could do not to scream at the man in tandem with the dragonslayer. “We’ve been prisoners of Basram for some time and have only recently escaped.” His every instinct was screaming at him to get away, to force these idiots to get this ship moving far faster than they were, and for the sake of every Gaean god, they had to get the hell away from the border!

“Captain, we’re picking up on a leviship approaching from the border. They are hailing us using Basram frequencies.” An officer manning what Van assumed was a communications array called out, causing the king’s guts to clench with dread.

The captain shot both king and warlord equals looks of “shut the hell up and don’t say a word” before turning to look at the officer.

“Patch them through.” He ordered, squaring his shoulders and straightening his back, he stared out the large front window of the bridge as if he could actually see the approaching ship. “Basram vessel, this is Captain Raj Arjun of the Freid leviship Bhaagi. Why are you challenging our border?” He spoke the words in fluent basrami and the man’s voice was strong and authoritative, demanding an immediate answer. One would never guess that he at this moment had two draconians flanking him nervously.

“I fucking knew he could understand me!” Dilandau hissed softly, earning himself a sharp elbow in the ribs from Van and a warning shake of the various weapons still pointing at him.

“Captain Arjun,” The voice on the other end of the speaker was warped by static and made tinny by distance, though it was still understandable as it spoke freidian. “I am Captain Tui Zeng of the leviship Kongju. We saw a flare of light and took it to be an explosion. Naturally we wish to lend aid to our allies in these dark times. How fortuitous that there was a ship already in the area.” Van narrowed his eyes in suspicion, fully aware that the chances of two patrol ships managing to be on hand in the area of a peaceful border were rather astronomical, even by his standards.

Thankfully, Captain Arjun seemed to feel the same way because he glanced over at the king and warlord thoughtfully for a moment before returning his attention to the possibly enemy ship.

“We thank you for your concern, however the situation is under control. Merely some scavengers poking around some war scraps and managed to send off a flare. No one was injured and the equipment has been confiscated to prevent the possibility of future occurrences.”

Van couldn’t keep his eyes from widening in shock. From what he’d always known, the Freid people greatly prized their honesty and forthrightness, believing it to be a lesson passed down from the Ancients. To see one of them lie so boldly, without the slightest hesitation was more than a little shocking.

“Ah, excellent,” The Basrami captain stated, sounding honestly relieved by the news. “The war has claimed enough lives, it would be a tragedy to see it continue to do so.”

“What’s going on? What’s he saying?” Dilandau hissed softly, earning himself more dark glares but hardly caring. He loathed not being able to understand what was being said at all, especially when Van’s face made it obvious that something shocking had just taken place.

“Indeed it has. May the wings of the Ancients grant you warm winds.” Captain Arjun stated by way of dismissal, raising his hand to order the line cut, but the Basram captain continued to speak.

“In the spirit of good faith, I would share some distressing news with you Captain. A few days ago, a peaceful town within our borders was destroyed by the war criminal Dilandau Albatou. Many innocents were slaughtered by the foul beast and survivors have stated that he was heading in this direction. Freid has suffered enough at that madman’s hands, we would not wish our allies to suffer any further.”

“Thank you Captain Zeng, that is most disturbing indeed. I shall pass on the warning to my superiors and thank Basram for their thoughtfulness in passing on the information. I grieve for your loss and shall include the fallen village in my prayers this sunrise.”

“Most generous of you, be well.” The connection between the ships was cut and the captain turned around to face the two teenagers with open suspicion on his face.

“My office, gentlemen.” He stated in a voice which left no room for argument. “Commander Aarav, you have the bridge. Send us west towards Sooryoday Temple until we’re beyond range of their sensors then head towards Godashim at maximum speed. I have a feeling that Basram is already on their way to speak to the Duke and pour poison in his ear.”

Turning on his heel, the captain exited the bridge, heading towards a room just off to it’s side. The two guards originally assigned to keep an eye on the teens accompanied them, looking less and less thrilled by their assignment.

The office was small but tidy and meticulously organized. There was a small shrine set into one wall, sporting an incense holder, a beautifully carved crystal figure of a winged woman and some fresh flowers in a bowl of water. His desk was carved from light wooden slats which had been skillfully woven together to form the shape. Several stacks of scrolls filled a basket on it’s surface as well as two inkwells and accompanying writing quills.

On the walls were drawings of various criminals, some rather wll rendered, with accompanying information and reward amounts. It was no surprise to see Dilandau’s face displayed prominently among them and Van found it oddly satisfying to see that it was one of the better drawings.

Naturally, the dragonslayer noticed as well and gave a soft snort of contempt, noting the rather insane bounty amount.

“My lashes are much longer than that and the scar isn’t nearly that big. Honestly, are they TRYING to make me look ugly? They also didn’t get my nose right at all.” He flashed the albino a quick glare but earned nothing more than a soft snicker of amusement. Clearly someone had decided not to take the situation at all seriously. “Hey Van, seeing as how you’re the one holding onto my sword, does that mean that you’re the one who caught me? If so, that bounty will do wonders for Fanelia’s economy. That’s likely more money than your country’s ever seen.” If the captain understood him, which he likely did, the man gave no sign.

There was only one chair, located behind the desk, but the captain made no move to sit down on it. Instead, he stood in front of his desk and surveyed the two teens with a level and calculating look while the guards took up position inside the door, their eyes remained unwavering on the albino.

“An entire village put to the torch.” He said after a rather uncomfortable length of silence. “Sadly, it’s all too believable in regards to that one. But I fought in the Destiny War King Fanel, and I have long heard tales of your honour. So I would like to give you an opportunity to tell your side of the tale.” Apparently realizing that Dilandau had next to no understanding of the Freid language, the captain seemed all too inclined to speak it, neatly excluding the dragonslayer from speaking in his own defence. Not that he would have believed a word coming out of the albino’s mouth under any circumstance.

“We were kidnapped from Astoria.” Van began, unsure exactly how much detail to give the story in order to be believable but still retain their privacy. “We woke up in a ship bound for Basram and were held chained up like animals for nearly a week before being delivered to some labs. We were there in the labs for some time... weeks, a colour? What’s the date anyway?”

“Twelve Magenta.” Damn... that meant they’d been in there for a little more than a colour. Missing for a colour and a half... everyone must think they’re dead by now... except the people hunting them. They needed allies badly and now it was imperative that they get to Chid before Basram or who knew what sort of lies would be told. No doubt Basram would eagerly spread the story of a destroyed innocent village, painting Dilandau all too easily as the villain, ensuring that Astoria was further weakened politically by openly supporting the warlord.

“Van, if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on, I’m going to start making a scene here that I can guarantee you won’t want to witness.” Dilandau growled impatiently, earning a dark glare from the captain and hinting that the man was likely lying about not understanding Astorian either.

“Basram claimed that you’d destroyed a village within their borders and they’re likely heading to Godashim to ensure that Astoria looks like idiots or traitors for granting you a second chance.”

“Oh...” He pondered that thoughtfully for a moment, sounding almost amused by the revelation. “Well, clearly that’s a lie. You wouldn’t have anything to do with me if I’d done that. Perks of being a hero and all that, your goody two shoes attitude will finally count in my favour. Good boy.” Yup, some days he really wanted to punch that smug face.

“Yeah, perks.” He found himself grumbling under his breath before turning his attention back to the captain.

“It wasn’t a village we destroyed. It was a lab complex. They were experimenting on us, cutting us apart.” Van replied, motioning to the scars which while healed, were still quite visible on his body. “They tortured us every day before we finally escaped during an accident in the labs. A lot of people died, but we escaped in the confusion and stole a leviship, but it was damaged in the escape and crashed a few days walk from the border. The RedPaw wolf clan has been escorting us since then.”

“Why would beasts help you?” Yeah, Freid wasn’t as crazy about the non human races of Gaea either, though they tended to adopt a more blind eye to them than active discrimination.

“Fanelia has long been an ally of the Beastkin.” He explained patiently. “I speak their language and know their customs. I asked for their help and they saw that we clearly needed it.”

“And the small army of Zaibach citizens?”

“We rescued them from slavers. Our goal is to get them either back to Zaibach or to a neutral area where they can settle in safety.”

“An impressive coincidence considering who you travel with. Many would take one look at this situation and rather easily see it as you being held prisoner by Zaibach’s pet demon and him leading a forward strike deep into enemy territory.” Despite the seriousness of the accusations, Van found himself smiling at that and met the captains eyes, holding his gaze.

“I’m the only person on Gaea who’s ever consistently beaten him in battle.” He replied, not bothering to point out as Dilandau had that during most of those battles, the dragonslayer was at less than top form... or even middling form. “I assure you that if I didn’t wish to be with him, I wouldn’t be. We’re allies and carry news that we must deliver to Duke Chid.”

The captain thought on this for a long moment, weighing what he’d learned against what he already knew and what Basram had revealed. It was clear that he wasn’t liking what he was coming up with, though the man’s abilities to mask what he was thinking was rather remarkable.

“I do not like the idea of that demon being brought anywhere near the Duke. What guarantees do you have that our beloved duke will be safe?”

“Only my word to you, and his to me.”

“His word means nothing. He’s a butcher of women and children.”

“We’re the last two Children of Atlantis on Gaea. I trust in that.” It was a cheap ploy but Van meant every word. The two of them were deeply and ineffably linked to each other. If at this point, they couldn’t trust the other, then they were doomed, and Gaea along with them.

Whether it was something in his tone of voice or the resolute stare in his eyes, the captain finally nodded his head in acquiescence.

“I’ll take you both to Godashim and allow the demon to remain free upon my ship, but one false more or him busting onto the bridge spouting threats against my crew and I’ll drag him into the Duke’s court bound in chains and gagged. I trust I make myself clear.” Yes, this was not a man to dismiss lightly and Van actually felt himself smile in relief over that.

“Thank you good Captain, we are in your debt.”

“No, your Highness, This is merely my duty.”

 

 

It wasn’t much later before they finally found (were escorted with intent to) their rooms... er... room. It seemed that they were actually going to accept his demand that they share, which was rather nice though a tad disconcerting. It was a decent size with two beds, a shared night table and a rather nice dressing table with wash basin. There was a small commode attached to the room which was impressive for a patrol ship and implied that this wasn’t the first time they’d played host to a dignitary.

Dilandau of course wasted no time at all in walking over to the jug of warmed water and pouring some into the small basin. Flashing a wide and somewhat mischievous grin at Van, he deftly unfastened the knot on his kilt, allowing the cloth to fall to the floor at his feet, baring every inch of delectable alabaster pale skin for the king.

Van had been eyeing the bed longingly and had just pulled back the topmost sheet when he heard the cloth hit the floor and the sound of water on flesh. In a flash, the heavy shadow of exhaustion was pushed back in favour or a rush of teenage hormones which demanded attention be paid to the beautiful performance taking place only a few feet away.

A performance it certainly was, as Dilandau used a soft sponge to clean himself in ways which were far too sensual to be accidental. Crimson eyes continued to steal hungry looks at the king as the sponge slid over lean muscles in slow deliberate movements, drawing Van’s eyes to how beads of water traced the paths of muscles perfectly, leaving glistening trails in their wakes.

After their time in the cell together, he’d seen Dilandau wash nearly a hundred times, but never quite like this and his body was quickly taking note of the difference. This... this was art, beautiful erotic art and he found that he couldn’t look away. In fact, he found himself approaching the gorgeous albino and pulling him into his arms before his brain even fully realized what was happening.

“Gods of Gaea, you’re gorgeous.” He murmured softly as he traced kisses along the back of that pale neck, enjoying how the silvery white hair tickled his nose. Strong arms wrapped around Dilandau’s trim waist, pulling him gently back against Van’s body and he thrilled at how the dragonslayer arched into his touch with a soft moan of pleasure.

“Show me how gorgeous I am Van.” Dilandau all but purred, rocking his hips slightly so that the firm curve of his buttocks pressed against the growing bulge in Van’s kilt. The tips of their wings brushed each other lightly, sending jolts of desire through their bodies and driving away any possibly lingering thoughts of what had happened the last time they’d enjoyed such activities.

Emboldened by the words and the clear encouragement from the albino, Van continued to kiss along that smooth pale flesh, loving how Dilandau tilted his head to the side, giving him access to more delicious skin. Meanwhile, Van’s hands did their own exploring. One sliding up, tracing the firm taut muscles of the dragonslayer’s abdomen, then up to explore along his chest until he found the firm nub of a nipple and began to tease the delightful flesh with his fingertips. The action coaxed the most delightful moans out of Dilandau’s mouth, but they had nothing on the desperate gasp which escaped his lips when Van’s other hand delved lower, stroking across the base of the albino’s erection.

In all of their exploring, Van had yet to take much time to explore this delicate part of his lover’s anatomy and he chose to do so now, deciding that perhaps it was his turn to torture his lover a little, especially since Dilandau had already made it clear what he wanted.

His fingers were tentative at first, gently brushing across the base of the shaft, toying with the light down of curls gracing the root. While not as thick as his own, the flesh felt silkier and it seemed to almost jump at his touch, growing even harder with anticipation, begging for attention.

Slowly, the fingers traced along the length of the shaft, noting the length, the texture, how his flesh here was so pale it was practically translucent, though growing darker at the tip as blood continued to fill it. Pearly drops of pre-cum were already beading the tip and Van grinned as he gently smeared the oily drops around the delicate foreskin, teasing it back and loving the way that Dilandau’s hips rocked against him, grinding against his own aching arousal, drawing his lust to a near fever pitch.

Unlike the albino, he had no patience for torture, no matter how sweet the reward and he found himself grabbing the albino and shoving him over onto the nearest bed. Normally, this likely would have ended in him being punched or at least chewed out, but this time, Dilandau allowed himself to be manhandled onto the bed and surprised Van by crawling up onto it a little further. His back arched with every step, causing that beautifully rounded ass to bob and sway in the most hypnotic fashion imaginable.

For a moment, Van could only stare in fascination as the dragonslayer slowly lowered himself onto his elbows and spread his knees apart, presenting himself in the most magnificent fashion. His already achingly hard erection became an utter agony as Van stared at that that perfect pucker of flesh, blushing the most fetching shade of deep rose, still slightly swollen and slick from their earlier lovemaking. It called to him, beckoned him with the memories of how perfect he’d felt buried within it’s depths.

“Are you going to fuck me with your eyes, or your cock?” Dilandau asked, his voice that familiar throaty purr as he glanced over his shoulder at Van, his eyes smouldering like molten rubies. Teasingly, he reached between his own legs and traced a pale fingertip across that tight hole, moaning in pleasure as the flesh quivered at his touch, causing Van to gasp as his desperate need surged out of control.

Before he really realized what was happening, he’d grabbed onto those perfect slender hips and thrust himself deep into that hot tight sheath of flesh. A strangled and guttural cry made it past his lips as those glorious muscles clenched down around him, drawing him deeper into that perfect body and seeming to quiver around him, stroking him intimately with every movement as he began to thrust roughly.

Dilandau cried out loudly at the rough entrance, relieved that there was still just enough of the gel mingled with Van’s earlier seed to keep him slick enough not to tear, but Sweet Fate it was glorious! The pain was perfect, sharp and piercing him straight to his core. He was rocked forward by the sheer force of it and almost immediately Van set a brutal rhythm, driving himself deep with every thrust even as his hands roughly pulled Dilandau’s hips back to meet him.

At the apex of every thrust, he could feel a burst of energy deep inside him, as if someone were brushing two live wires against each other over and over again, causing a spark to light up each time along his nerves. It grew with every punishing thrust and Dilandau found himself rocking back eagerly to meet it, welcoming the sizzling power that lit up his nerves like a street in the Capital at midnight.

His wings stretched out as far as the room would allow, brushing each wall as he struggled for balance. The room seemed to spin around them and dimly he was aware that he was crying out Van’s name over and over again with steadily growing volume.

Van knew that he wasn’t going to last long. It was all too new, too overwhelming to his senses and no matter how much he wanted to make this last, without Dilandau’s focused attention on drawing it out, he simply didn’t have the self control to hold back. Instead, he did his best to make their union as enthusiastic and memorable as he could and judging by Dilandau’s desperate cries as the way his slender body shuddered against him, he was achieving his goal admirably.

Holding those slender hips tightly enough to bruise, he gave another few rapid thrusts, thrilling at hearing the sound of flesh smacking against flesh and seeing how Dilandau’s body seemed to grip at his penis, trying to hold him in as deeply as possible. Every flex of muscle, every fluttering squeeze around his pistoning shaft just drove him to greater heights of passion and he could feel a white hot pressure building inside him. It sizzled along his nerves and up his spine then out along his wings, causing them to stretch out until they rested atop Dilandau’s, the tips of his pinions brushing the walls. Gods of Gaea it was incredible! Everything was on fire inside him in he most spectacular ways! He could feel the energy of their coupling trace along his skin, energizing it with little filaments of light which sparked between them, dancing between their bodies.

His pendant was glowing like a small sun and their feathers shone like the stars, lighting up the room with their brilliant light as they thrust faster, harder and with a passion that bordered on madness.

Reaching down, he grabbed onto Dilandau’s straining shaft, his touch causing the albino to cry out even louder than before, his voice nearly breaking as the king began to stroke him roughly towards completion. Those slender hips bucked and rocked even harder, grinding against him with every thrust until Van as positive that he was about to lose his mind. The silken passage began to squeeze him even tighter as muscles deep inside Dilandau’s body began to spasm violently, causing him to buck and writhe like a crazed snake beneath Van, desperate to impale himself utterly on the king’s own shuddering shaft.

The increased pressure and friction was all it took to undo Van and even as his hand frantically pumped the dragonslayers shuddering cock, his own seemed to explode deep within that pale perfect body. Van could feel his awareness narrowing to a single perfect point of sensation. The pressure, the heat, the slick stroking... even those desperately ragged cries, they all tore him apart and he found himself once again grabbing onto those hips with both hands and driving into that heated core with every bit of strength he had, as if nothing else in the world mattered beyond his completion.

When it came, it tore through him like an energist explosion. He was aware of light, heat, or that perfect sense of completion all woven together in a brilliant burst of sensation that left him screaming and gasping as he emptied himself into his lover, filling him with heat, energy and life itself.

The sparks dancing across their wings sizzled across the walls, burning into the paint and leaving elaborate patterns in their wake. The ships energist crystals glowed brilliantly in reaction to the surge, struggling to contain the power without shattering and everyone on board felt energy dance across their skin in building waves. The Freidians all stood in awe of the power suffusing the ship, calling forth memories of their own moments of pure blissful intimacy. Several actually dropped down to their knees in prayer at the honour of being granted this brush of divine power. The Zaibachi and the beast-kin merely braced themselves for the blast they dreaded might follow. Meanwhile, the ships systems, momentarily unattended went haywire, flashing out urgent and nonsensical readings.

Spent, the two teens collapsed on the bed, barely aware of anything beyond their own entangled bodies as their brilliantly shining wings wrapped around each other, holding them close in a cocoon of feathers.

“Brilliant.” Dilandau murmured softly, nuzzling Van’s neck and sounding more than a little dazed by it all. “Sweet, fate, promise me that you’ll always fuck me like that.”

Van was unable to reply, his head was still spinning and he was struggling to regain his breath. Instead, he gently took Dilandau’s chin in his hand and kissed the dragonslayer deeply, drinking in the taste of him like fine ambrosia. This seemed to satisfy his lover who wrapped pale slender arms around him, holding him close as he nuzzled the king affectionately, his eyes already drifting closed.

 

 

 

 

 

The knife was placed firmly against the underside of Allen’s throat, pressing just hard enough to let him know that it was there, and the person wielding it was more than happy to use it. Freezing in mid step, he wondered if his attacker was going to identify themselves.

“Good evening.” He greeted his assailant in a perfectly conversational tone of voice, as if his life wasn’t currently being threatened. “May I help you?” As he spoke, his hand slowly dropped down to his sword, still hanging at his hip.

“Why are you here Schezar?” A familiar and unfriendly voice hissed, the knife never once so much as twitching as Sibille spoke,; Hatred dripping from her every word. “And don’t bother tying to reach for your sword, I’ll slit your throat before it even leaves it’s sheath.

Realizing the danger he was in, Allen swallowed rather shallowly and his hand stopped it’s downward progress.

“Honestly, I was just about to get a cup of Jaffa.” He replied, motioning carefully towards the ornate cylindrical machine resting against the counter top in the corner of the small mess hall. “It’s proven to be a rather addictive drink... I was not aware that I was committing a social misstep in doing so.”

“Your every breath is a social misstep you pox ridden parasite.” She hissed at him, withdrawing the blade and giving him a sharp shove into the room. “You pillage our country, rub our noses in your shit then come here acting like some noble lord and looking down your pointed little nose at us.” He could see the sneer on her lips and the hatred in her narrowed pale green eyes. “Now you demand our food and resources as well? Well go on, you foul silk wearing pig. Stuff yourself and do try not to choke.” It was a good thing that intent itself couldn’t kill, even in Zaibach, because Allen was rather sure he’d be a cooling corpse at that point. Still, enough was enough. He’d done his best to be polite and genteel, but apparently those were not qualities appreciated in this country. It seemed that he was going to have to speak to this harridan much the way he spoke to Dilandau himself.

So be it. Choking back all of his years of fine breeding and courtly training, he turned around and glared at the woman as coldly as she did him.

“I assure you that despite your most fervent desires, I have no intention of dying so easily.” His voice was clipped and sharp, for once causing him to appreciate the already aggressive sounding language. “I have offered you no insult and would have previously hoped to receive the same from you, but clearly you have the disposition of a rabid cur so I shall treat you as such.”

“Heh, finally a bit of spine, you limp wristed ponce.” Her grin was every bit as friendly as Dilandau’s when he was in one of his moods and Allen barely had time to draw his sword before her dagger found its way into his belly. His wrist struck hers sharply, foiling her strike, but to his surprise, she drew a short sword with her left hand and held is poised and ready.

“Both hands?” He found himself murmuring in no small amount of admiration and irritation. “Really?”

“You’re the idiot who assumed that I was right handed.” Alright, she did have him there. Still, he should have noticed that in the way she moved and would have, had he not been so distracted by her constant stream of insults. In fact, he was still cursing himself when she lunged again, her sword passing disturbingly close to his face before he deflected it, having to actually use his scabbard to block the dagger which struck less than an eye-blink later.

She was quick, lethally so and long swords were a terrible weapon for indoors in the tight confines of the kitchen. It was simply too long to use properly to it’s full potential, whereas her short sword and knife combination were perfect for the environment.

The very idea of fighting a woman, even a zaibachi one was appalling to his code of chivalry. They might dress and act like men, but that didn’t stop them from being women, and no knight worth his title would raise his blade to one!. Still, the idea was more than a little tempting as her struck for his eyes with her knife then spun around neatly, her sword actually nicking several buttons from his jerkin.

“Fight me you pompous inbred bastard!” She snarled in rage, striking again in quick succession, actually driving him back several steps further into the kitchen until his hip bumped rather sharply into the table. Not hesitating for a moment, Allen rolled across the top of the table, losing a few locks of hair in the process as her sword passed through the space his head had, until moments ago occupied.

“I have no reason to fight you.” Allen snapped, seriously giving his code of ethics some hard thought as he saw the golden strands of hair laying there on the tabletop. Of all the nerve! He’d only been trying to get a cup of Jaffa for Jeture’s sake! Did no one in Zaibach have any concept of manners?

“Well I have every reason to fight you!” Sibille snapped at him, her face twisted into something ugly and vicious in her hatred. “You took everything away, you and your shit eating friends. I want to rip the bloody heart out of the chest of that Fanelian runt for what he did, but you... oh you’ll do just as nicely.”

“I would give you my deepest apologies if it would mean anything to you.” He replied sincerely, twisting out of the way of another lethal attack then quickly jumped to the side as she kicked a chair at him of all things! Had this woman no honour?!

“Words!” She yelled, lunging forward with another vicious swing of her sword. He caught it inches from his head, locking the blades together as they struggled against each others centre. Of course, it was at this moment when he realized that unlike most of his other opponents, this one wielded a dagger. Judging by the vicious grin on her face, she hadn’t forgotten at all.

Inwardly, Allen prepared himself for the cold bite of the blade entering his flesh, but instead, Sibille’s eyes widened and she stiffened for a moment in shock, then sank slowly to the floor, her twin blades clattering loudly on the stone. Allen was simply too shocked to even try to catch her. What exactly had just happened?

“Well, I see you two found each other.” Regis said from the door, tucking a small tube which looked suspiciously like a blowgun into a hidden pocket in his cloak. “That saves me from having to hunt around for you.” He smiled brightly at the two in the room, as if he hadn’t just knocked one of them out with poison. “I trust I wasn’t interrupting anything too important?”

Rather than be relieved, Allen was more than a tad incensed. Not only had the young lord struck dishonourably from behind, but he’d used poisons! More importantly, he’d attacked a woman! True, she’d been about to murder him, but that hardly mattered in the eyes of decorum!

“Have you no honour at all?” Allen snapped, glaring at his young saviour, unsure if he was more irate over the idea that he just might have lost that fight to a stupid oversight, that it had been to a woman, or that the victory was not one he could, or would want to claim. “You attacked a woman from behind. You didn’t even identify yourself.” It was impossible to keep the tone of judgmental disgust from his voice so he didn’t even try.

Instead of looking the last bit contrite, Regis instead carefully nudged the woman’s weapons out of her hands with the toe of his boots. His caution spoke worlds in regards to his view of the woman and was likely a large factor in why he hadn’t given her a chance to notice his presence at all.

Cool deep grey eyes glanced up at Allen, humour glittering in their depths as he thought about the knight’s accusations.

“You do realize that she was about to gut you like a pig right?” One hand grabbed hold of the woman’s vest while the other made a slight gesture towards his jerkin, pointing out the slashed buttons and the small hole located just above his diaphragm. “That would have been a rather slow and lingering death, just so you know.” He gave a little heave of the harridan’s body, half propping her up on his shoulder while giving Allen an imploring look. “Are you going to help me lift her up or just let a lady lay on the floor like a late night drunkard?”

“Hmph, that is no lady.” Allen grumbled softly but still crouched down to help. Rabid cur or not, she was still a woman currently in need. Honestly, he really needed to give this whole code of chivalry thing a rather serious review because clearly Zaibach was once again not playing by the rules.

“She’s really not that bad once you get to know her.” Regis observed as they more or less manhandled her into one of the chairs. It was awkward, graceless and more than a tad embarrassing had anyone seen them considering that Allen nearly dropped her several times when he found himself grabbing onto pieces of flesh which were... improper, causing Regis to snicker childishly at him.

“Yes, I’m sure she’s quite the court lady once you get to know her.” Sarcasm dripped from Allen’s voice as he spared the harridan a dark and accusing glare for making his life more difficult than it already was. Still chuckling in amusement, Regis wandered over to the jaffa machine thing and poured out three glasses, placing one in front of the harpy.

“For when she wakes up. It’s best to placate her as quickly as possible.” The young lord informed him with a tone which bespoke of long familiarity. “And yeah, you’re right, she’s as prickly as a wolverine with a bad tooth and I’ve heard that even Dilandau would tread lightly around her when she was in a mood.” That little tidbit caught his attention, as it was no doubt intended to.

“She knew Dilandau?” He found himself looking at the woman with renewed interest, wondering what part she’d played in the tumultuous life of his sibling.

“Yeah, they went out drinking once or twice, much to Dallet’s chagrin. From the sounds of it, I think she was about the only woman he’d even remotely flirt with... though Dallet tended to call it homicidal banter. It really freaked him out.” The name was familiar and Allen knew that he’d heard it before but honestly couldn’t place where. Noting the knights questioning look, Regis once again looked over at the woman with fond sadness, likely weighing whether or not to tell him the truth.

“Dallet was one of Dilandau’s Dragonslayers... He was her son.” Oh.... OH! Jeture’s scales, no wonder she had a chip on her shoulder the size of a guymelef. It was actually rather surprising that she hadn’t simply killed him outright for his part in the war.

“I see... no wonder she blames me for his death.” He finally managed, realizing how dreadfully inadequate the words actually were. Rather than taking offence at his words, Regis simply shrugged and sipped his drink.

“She blames Van mostly, and Lord Dilandau for pushing them all into the situation though she understands the pressure Emperor Dornkirk and Strategos Folken were putting on him, so she’s not about to cut his heart out of his chest on sight... but she might rough him up a little.” Again, there was that strange fondness in his voice, speaking of a deep familiarity with both the woman and the situation. Taking a thoughtful sip of the jaffa, Allen considered the evidence being presented. “Still, Dallet died doing what he loved, fighting for Lord Dilandau. I just...” He swallowed for a moment and Allen saw real grief in those deep grey eyes. “I just wish that we had a body to bury, or at least something of his as a memento. Anything that might have been left behind was destroyed when the Vione went down. As for his remains, the reports say that there was nothing left. The whole team was pretty much reduced to slag. I guess I should thank father for that one. His cowardice ensured that I dodged that fate.” The laugh he gave sounded hollow and forced, causing Allen to believe that the boy might wish deep down to have still been there on that barren plateau during the final moments of the Dragonslayers.

“And what was your relation to Dallet?” The knight found himself asking in a soft voice, more than half sure he knew the answer already. After all, the youth had made no attempts at hiding his inclinations and it was obvious that he knew quite a bit about the team, obsession with their captain notwithstanding. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen someone take a lover in an attempt to grow closer to their true goal.

“He was my brother.” Allen barely managed to keep from spitting his drink out all over the other two and ended up swallowing a rather large amount of the scalding liquid.

“Y...your what?!” That was NOT what he was expecting to hear.

“Yeah, twin brother.” Regis smiled thinly at the knight, taking a small measure of amusement out of his obvious shock. “Fraternal twins.” He clarified. “I’m the eldest by half an hour, something I never let him forget.” Allen was fully aware that his jaw was hanging open like an idiot, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop. His mind was still struggling to grasp this concept. Not so much the fact that he was related to one of the Dragonslayers, but that meant that... he was related to the harridan?

“She... she’s you mother?!” He finally blurted out, sounding like a complete idiot but simply not caring. “That’s Lady Falafell!?” Now it was Regis’ turn to nearly spit out his drink as he laughed uproariously at that statement. “YOU POISONED YOUR OWN MOTHER!?!?” Yelling out the last bit, he stood there aghast, his mind unable to comprehend what it was being told. What was wrong with this country? They were all mad!

“Oh sweet fate no!” Regis gasped out, managing to do so with far more grace than Allen had. “I mean, yes, she IS my mother, but she is most definitely NOT the Lady Falafell.”

“But... Lord Falafell is your father... You’re a-” He cut himself off and sat himself back down before he could say anything too damning. In all honesty, who was he to be offended? Had he not sired his own son out of wedlock? At least Lord Falafell had had the decency to claim his son rather than Allen who had to watch from afar, dreaming of what might have been had he been bold enough to claim his family and face the consequences. It hurt deeply to know that that cowardly slimy lord had had more honour and courage than he, a famed Knight Caeli from the ancient and noble House Schezar.

“Yeah, I’m a bastard.” Regis shrugged, hardly concerned. “It doesn’t mean what it does in Astoria. Father claimed me as his legitimate heir. Him not being married to Sibille doesn’t change my legitimacy.”

“But, you call her by her name? Is it not disrespectful? She’s your... ahem... mother after all.” It felt so strange to say, even stranger to picture this woman doing any sort of womanly thing such as holding a small babe in her overly muscular arms. Gods and feeding the child? He was rather sure that a woman that bitter and vicious was wholly unable to provide milk for an innocent infant, let alone two.

“Dallet and I were separated at birth for the most part.” The youth took another sip of jaffa as he spoke. Glancing occasionally at the harridan as if watching for any sign of her regaining consciousness. The look reminded Allen of a rabbit watching a nearby resting fox, alert to the slightest twitch which might warn of an impending strike. The dragonslayers had often had that air about them when around their captain.

“Father and Sibille didn’t really get along. He wanted an heir though and Sibille wanted a child to train. I suppose that she could have just taken one from the Academy, but I think that deep down, she also wanted a baby. When they realized that we were twins, they decided that the first born would become father’s heir and she’d keep the second for herself. It was win win for both really. Dallet and I were raised more like cousins than real siblings, but we both went to the Academy together and that’s when we grew close.

“In truth, they should have switched us for everyone’s benefit. Dallet was a great warrior and pilot, but he was amazing with mechanics. He could build anything if he put his mind to it and he’d have done brilliantly in the Science Academy. Me? I only ever wanted to be a soldier, but father was determined to have his Madoushi son, and what father wanted, he always got.

“Still, I almost stopped talking to Dallet when he got accepted into the Ryuugekitai... the Dragonslayers.” Regis clarified. “I was so jealous realizing that my little brother was going to spend every waking hour in Dilandau’s presence, piloting guymelefs and being on the front line in the war that would change the face of Gaea. He was living my dream and I wanted to choke him for it.” The boy flashed Allen a rueful smile and took another sip of his drink.

“Still, I couldn’t stay mad at him. He was my best friend after all... and my best path to finally getting to meet Dilandau! Not that that ever worked out, but he did get me a signed shadowgraph! It’s still hanging in my room at the palace. I bring that thing with me everywhere.” He flashed the knight a grin, fully aware that he was now making the man uncomfortable. “No, I didn’t bring it with me here, just in case we had to make a quick exit. I do however have a poster of the team in my bunk. Master Geesha hates it with a passion.”

Regis might have said more but at that moment, Sibille burst into motion, grabbing him by the throat and dragging him and his chair over backwards, driving him into the floor hard enough to leave the youth gasping around her crushing fingers.

“Dammit boy, you talk too much. Ugh... knew I should have swallowed rather than let your idiot self infect me.” To say that Allen was stunned by the explosive violence of the woman was an understatement, but to see a woman drop her son in such a manner... her own child! Granted, said child _Had_ recently poisoned her. “How you can be so brilliant and still so stupid boggles my mind. How much did you tell that walking cum stain of a knight?”

“I...” Regis tried to gasp out the words but the pressure on his throat was too tight. Rather than struggle pointlessly, he instead relaxed and pointed at her hand, giving the woman a pleading look. She glared at him for several long moments, making Allen wonder if she really was about to snap her own son’s neck. Finally, with a soft curse, she released him and stood up, walking over to her cast away sword and dagger, quickly putting them in their respective sheaths. Taking the opportunity to right his chair and sit back down on it, Regis did so and took another sip of the jaffa, hoping to relieve some of the internal bruising.

“I told him about Dallet.” The youth ground out, rubbing his throat tenderly. Behind him, the sword slammed loudly into it’s sheath and Sibille grabbed the back of his chair, tipping it back precariously once more as she glared down at him.

“You had no right!”

“I had every right! He was my brother!”

“You lost that right when you smiled into the face of his murderer and didn’t drive a knife into that little bastard’s eye socket!”

“King Van is a decent guy!” Regis shot back heatedly, meeting the woman’s glare with one equally a stubborn and heated.

“Oh King Van is it? Not King Fanel? I see you’re becoming wonderful friends with your brothers murderer. Shall you let him bend you over a table next? That’s a wonderful way to express your blood loyalty!”

“And what would cold blooded murder accomplish?” Allen was more than a little bothered that these people were openly arguing about regicide right in front of him, not seeming to care that the king in question was a close personal friend of his. Wait... no... Van was currently having sex with his little brother. Perhaps he should get in on this conversation as well, it would serve that sneaky little feathered playboy right.

“Killing him would give us satisfaction!”

“Why? It was war! Dallet died fighting and had accepted the risks. He knew that it could happen and King Van was only defending himself.” Regis continued to argue in the Fanelian’s defence making Allen wonder if he’d argue so passionately if he knew that the man he was defending was currently taking advantage of the hero he adored. Stupid honour, forcing him to keep that to himself. “King Van is honestly trying to do what’s right for Gaea and all of her people. He’s also been perfectly decent to me when everyone else in Astoria treats me like old trash left out in the sun.”

“Oh if you have a crush on that barbarian I will castrate you myself!” Sibille snarled, reaching for her knife again. This time Regis did roll off his chair and put the table... and Allen in between them.

“He’s not my type and you know that. I just respect the guy, and so should you.” He really had to put a stop to this before it got any stranger... or more dangerous.

Taking a deep breath, and pointedly reminding himself that this is exactly what knights were supposed to do... no matter how much they might wish that the two people in question put themselves out of his misery, he stood up and slammed his hands forcefully down on the table hard enough to make the jaffa cups bounce.

“Lord Regis, Sibille,” Ugh it felt strange saying her name, but he was sure that calling her a harridan to her face wouldn’t go over well given the situation. “Stop this immediately, it accomplishes nothing but drive a wedge between us when unity is what we truly need.” He took a moment to give each of them a cold and appraising glare. Hardly surprisingly, Regis folded first, glancing down and away from the knight, unable to hold his stare. Sibille on the other hand met the look with one of her own and it was just as chilling and calculating as his was. Honestly, he was more than a little impressed. No wonder Lord Falafell had chosen this woman to bear his heir, she’d ensure a strong child... or kill it trying.

“We cannot change what happened in the past no matter how lamentable it was. If I could prevent your son’s death, believe me I would. It caused my sibling immeasurable pain which I would do anything to take away. However that ability is beyond me so all I can do is move forward and do everything I can to prevent any further such tragedy. All I ask is that you aid m in this as your son is.”

Sibillle looked at him for a long moment, her jade eyes cold and hard as the stone itself. Finally, she nodded her head, radiating utter reluctance.

“I believe you Schezar, if only because I know your devotion to that little cocksucker of a brother of yours. Oh don’t glare at me like that, you know he does it.”

“I assure you madam that I do my best not to think about what my brother does during his leisure time.” Except when it involves a certain idiotic backstabbing brother seducing king. Oh he and Van were going to have words when this was over.... “What concerns me at this moment, more than anyone’s amorous activities is what brought you to seek us out Lord Regis.” He took a chance in taking his eyes off of the harridan in order to stare piercingly at the young lord, and judging by how uncomfortable he looked, so had Sibille.

“Yes... your timing was ... impeccable.” She didn’t sound overly happy about that.

“Er... Master Geesha sent me...” Regis drew himself up straighter and made a point of giving his long dark madoushi cloak a bit of a flap, drawing attention to it and all of the power it represented. The impressive effect lasted only a moment before his next words stole their attention away from his little display. “There’s been another Zone of Absolute Fortune... two in fact.” Sweet Jeture... he was going to go grey before this was over!.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this will all end well won't it?  
> I'm really enjoying how the relationship between Van and Dilandau is developing. They both do bring out the best and the worst in each other at times, but the also certainly keep each other on their toes. I do enjoy that Van is honestly not intimidated by Dilandau and is totally willing to put him in his place, violently if necessary when he gets too off the deep end. Granted, Dilandau in turn drags Van waaay out of his comfort zone and has him partaking in increasingly questionable activities and viewpoints. Their recklessness does tend to play off of each other and hopefully they realize this before they do something truly stupid...like you know, create a Zone of Absolute Fortune while on a leviship...  
> So, Allen is having a crappy time of it all. Not sure if this revelation means he can or really can't trust Regis. I mean, he did sort of play a pivotal part in the murder of the kids brother...could Regis honestly be ok with it it all or is this just another evasion?  
> Next Chapter!: Dilandau learns that there's always a price to pay for past actions.


	16. A Harsh Welcome Indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our duo learn that not everyone who was their ally in the war is going to welcome them with open arms...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter 16! Halfway through book 2! Things start to get cooking fast now that people are becoming aware of a particular albino wandering around the countryside with a massive price on his head... Seriously, Van should just turn him in and use the reward money to pay off all of Fanelia's debts. I'm sure Dilandau would understand. heh.  
> This has been an exciting week! We've had a tsunami alert at 1am (I slept through it... oops) tonight there's a 7 foot long cougar wandering around my neighbourhood and a plague in cold form is sweeping through the city. It took me out for about 4 days, thankfully I barely remember them at all and I'm now hopped up on enough steroids for my poor abused lungs that I'm pretty sure I'm gonna want to wrestle a bear after a day or two on these meds. ^_^  
> But enough about me! Let's see what fun our boys are having in the holy land of Freid! There really isn't much information on Freid culture, so please don't hate me if I get anything wrong.

The frantic knocking on the door woke Van up long before he was ready to rise and he grumbled some rather surprisingly crude phrases he’d recently learned as he nuzzled himself a little deeper into the feather cocoon surrounding himself and Dilandau. The dragonslayer snickered softly in sleepy response and wrapped his arms a little more tightly around the king, murmuring something softly in zaibachi.

Despite their best efforts to ignore it, the knocking continued and Van was finally forced to open his eyes and confront the annoying intrusion into his warm, sleepy reality. Of course, the first obstacle he was immediately met with were a pair of beautiful ruby red orbs staring into his and glittering with annoyance.

“If you can get rid of them without leaving this bed, I’ll give you the most spectacular blowjob of your life.” The albino murmured. “Otherwise, I’m setting them all on fire.” The feathered prison around him pressed in a little tighter, adding to the improbability of him leaving the bed even without such an ultimatum held over his head. Of course, it’s not as if he’d even entertained the option of breaking out of his warm and all too comfortable position, but there was no point in trying to point that out or argue with Dilandau about such details. There also really wasn’t much of a point in trying to reprimand him for threatening someone’s life before they’d even gotten up. Instead, he gave the dragonslayer a quick kiss on the lips before turning away and yelled at the door in a most unkingly fashion.

“Go away! We’re sleeping!” Hah, take that! He practically preened in pride at his quick thinking and beamed at the dragonslayer, eagerly awaiting his promised reward. Instead, Dilandau chuckled in amusement and nuzzled his neck, making it clear that said reward would be bestowed when he was damn good and ready.

“Er... “ There was another nervous sounding knock at the door, causing both teens to growl ominously in growing annoyance. “Our deepest apologies Your Highness...” Wait... was that the captain? Dammit, what the hell had happened to make the man sound so timid? He knew it couldn’t possibly have been something Dilandau had done, neither one of them had moved off the bed once they’d passed out, giving the albino a rather airtight alibi.

The knock sounded a third time and Dilandau’s growl evolved into actual words.

“Oh that is it!” Dilandau snarled, his wings snapping open as he sat up so abruptly that he nearly knocked Van off of the bed. “Him, his ship, that stupid shrine of his... all of it’s going to be ashes within the next ten minutes.” Before the king could do anything to stop him, the pale teen was off the bed and stalking to the door with the intent to maim the poor soul beyond it.

Throwing it open, he glared balefully at the captain, utterly unconcerned with his current state of extreme undress. As far as he was concerned, if they were going to bother him at whatever stupid hour it was, they deserved an eye full. Damn priggish lot of them, likely wouldn’t know what to do with a cock if they saw it anyway.

Seeing Dilandau standing there, wings arching up above his head and a flicker of dangerous light glimmering in the depths of his crimson eyes, the captain dropped down to his knees, prompting Dilandau to actually take a step back in surprise. Well, it seemed that maybe they did know what to do with a cock...

“Children of the Ancients,” The captain murmured in awe, his head lowering to the floor in deep genuflection, prompting a hint of a smile from a suddenly somewhat mollified dragonslayer. Well now, this was a much better way to wake up. It was about damn time someone in this pathetic country paid him his proper due, but still, the man HAD dared to bother him and that deserved punishment.

“Dilandau, leave the man alone and put some clothes on for Gaea’s sake!” Van snapped, crawling off the bed and taking the sheets with him, wrapping them tightly around his body so that not an inch of tanned flesh was revealed. The blush alone on the kings face was brilliant red and the dragonslayer couldn’t quite resist the amused smirk spreading across his own.

“Nice love bite.” The albino smirked, tracing a fingertip along the darkening bruise on the kings neck, just below his ear as he walked past, admiring his handiwork and idly wondering if he had any of his own to show off. If nothing else, he could certainly feel the kings enthusiastic exertions and made a mental note not to even try sitting down for the next few hours.

“Captain Raj, I apologize for our current state of... er... undress.” Van murmured, doing his best to ignore Dilandau and sound kingly, fully aware that he was failing utterly at both. Instead, he felt like a teenager who’d just been caught red handed in bed with the local troublemaker... which in essence had just happened. Dammit, did the pale bastard have to sway his hips like that as he walked? It was distracting!

Swallowing audibly, he did his best to focus his full attention on the kneeling man at his feet, feeling more and more awkward with every passing second.

“Please, there’s no need to bow.” He really hated seeing people kneeling like that outside of ceremony. It was pointless and demeaning as far as he was concerned. Really, he was no better or worse than any other person despite his title and unlike some people he wasn’t going to acknowledge at this moment, his ego didn’t need that level of stroking.

His blush only grew hotter as his mind connected the idea of stroking to other pleasurable things and he coughed loudly, shifting the sheets to hide his body’s reactions to his stupid brain and overactive hormones. Of course, it only grew worse as the captain slowly straightened up, his superior height giving him a clear view of the room and the fact that only one bed had been slept in... by two naked teenagers. Suddenly, Van couldn’t quite bring himself to meet the man’s eyes and he knew that he looked every bit as guilty as he was. Yup, busted.

Giving them the most diplomatic clearing of a throat imaginable, the captain did his best not to meet either of the teens eyes and instead choosing to stare at the far wall of the room. In shock, he noticed the scorch marks decorating the once pristine walls, as if someone had somehow painted with lightning over and over again, yet neither teen appeared to be harmed beyond some rather impressive bruising and a few raw red scratch marks, all of which appeared to be wholly erotic in nature.

“Ahem... yes... er...” The captain knew that he was well out of his depth and would have loved nothing more than to turn on his heel and return to the bridge a quickly as possible. Honestly, this was not something he’d ever thought he’d have to deal with over the course of his long career, Wars, disputing delegates, pirates, smugglers, entitled nobles, he could handle them all without batting an eye. How exactly did one handle learning that your gods had just been acting like a pair of randy teenagers away from adult supervision for the first time?

Seeing as how one of them at least had the decency to act like a proper young man of title who had just been caught in a rather scandalous situation, the captain chose to pretend that he had noticed nothing out of the ordinary. It never paid to make divine beings uncomfortable... at least, he was rather sure that was something the monks would agree on. Oh, his next visit to temple was certainly going to be awkward.

“We, we seem to have arrived at Godashim.”

“Seem to have arrived?” Van repeated his words, sounding more than a little confused, prompting a frown from Dilandau who was unable to follow any of the conversation and was doing his best to occupy himself by wrapping his kilt around his waist as obnoxiously as possible. “What do you mean by that? I thought it would take us nearly three days of travel? Not even the Crusade is that fast!”

“It’s... you see...a few hours ago, there was an energy surge across the ship.” Again the captain couldn’t help but cast a look about the room, doing his best to not notice the bed, or the continued state of undress of it’s occupants and the connections he was already beginning to draw from that. “It fried most of our sensors and equipment, but it appears that we were... transported to the capital city.”

Now it was Van’s turn to gasp in shock as he looked over at Dilandau then blushed hotly as he realized what said power surge had likely been from. Oops. They really needed to figure out how to get that under control.

“We’ve been under quarantine and guard until just a few minutes ago. Currently, we’re being towed to the docks and an entourage is awaiting your disembarkation.”

“Was... was anyone hurt?” The king asked, sounding every inch the guilty child he felt like. If there was any doubt in the captain’s mind as to who was behind this strange series of events, it was now pretty much confirmed and he felt a hot blush rise up on his own cheeks. Blessed Ancients... temple was going to be so very very awkward. At least the king looked properly contrite, the war criminal... not so much.

“No, no one was hurt, though the ship requires extensive repairs to our systems after the overload. We’re lucky we didn’t lose the energist and crash.” It was difficult to put a proper level of reproach in his voice, despite the very clear danger the entire ship had been put into. At least the king’s obvious relief helped mollify the captain somewhat, though really, he had no idea how he was going to explain to his crew what the source of that wave of energy was, or why it had caused such... erotic memories to surface in the minds of everyone aboard. Some things really should remain kept to one’s self... and whatever poor unfortunate monk he ended up speaking to.

“Truly you must have wanted to reach here as quickly as possible to manage such a feat.” Again, heat tinged his cheeks as he gave a reverent bow to them both, eager to be out of the situation as quickly as possible. This was likely the most awkward situation he’d ever found himself inin his life and he was eager to bring it to a close. “I shall give you some time to collect yourselves? Your people are already gathering in the hangar bay and your dragon is most... perturbed. The strange boy and lizardkin girl are calming it as well as they are able, but would likely appreciate your assistance.”

“Of course... thank you Captain.” Van nodded his had, still unsure of how to handle a situation quite like this. Still, he knew an offer of dismissal when he heard one and leaped on it with all the eagerness of an embarrassed teenager. Giving the captain a sharp nod, Van turned away, allowing the man to quickly close the door and retreat. They could hear him break into a run almost immediately.

“This whole not understanding the language thing is going to get old really fast.” Dilandau grumbled, wandering over to the washbasin to freshen up. He just knew that he’d missed several golden opportunities to bully the captain mercilessly, had he only known what was being said. “In fact, I’m sick of it already. Get me a translator or do it yourself. I’m tired of waiting until the conversation is over to know what’s being said.” He continued, washing himself with the now icy cold water. At least this time his intent was simply to wash and he was done in remarkable time, tossing the wet sponge at Van who neatly caught it... only to have water suddenly gush out of it and soak him.

“You’re such an ass.” He shot at the snickering albino before beginning to wash the nights exertions from his body. “We did it again last night.” Van spoke as he washed. “I don’t mean the sex.” He added quickly before Dilandau could make a cutting remark. “The weird energy... we called up a pillar of light I think. The ship’s been transported to Godashim.”

Now at least he had a chance to see a look of pure shock on the dragonslayer’s face as Dilandau stared at him slack jawed.

“We... no, there’s no way. A whole ship!? How did we not explode it?” Van winced at the very real possibility they’d just narrowly skirted. Maybe the two of them should take a step back and reassess their relationship. As much as he didn’t want to, he’d never really entertained the possibility that sex might put the lives of others in danger. It figured that even when they got along, the two of them created a trail of destruction wherever they went. Of course, bringing up that suggestion to the dragonslayer wasn’t a prospect he really relished and he could already feel the searing glare aimed at his back.

“You’re being too quiet and you’re tense.” Dilandau stated, stepping up behind him, his voice heavy with warning. “That means you’re thinking about doing something stupid and selflessly heroic that I’m likely going to punch you for, so don’t even think about it. I’m not about to be celibate for the supposed safety of others.”

“We could have killed people Dilandau.” Van found himself protesting, hating himself for having to be the one to say it. “What if the energist on the ship had overloaded?”

“It didn’t, so why worry? We’re here now in record time AND we got to have wonderful sex. Honestly, I don’t see a downside here. Stop acting like Folken and trying to dig up problems where there aren’t any.” Skilled fingers reached out and stroked through the sensitive feathers on his wings, finding the perfect places to touch and making Van groan softly in pleasure. “We’ll figure out how to control it like all of the other weird shit we do.” Strong hands slid around Van’s body, pulling him back against a solid warm chest as large shining wings wrapped around him protectively. “You don’t shy away from power Van, you learn to use it, harness it. Think of what we could do with this ability. It might be something we could use against those golden guymelef bastards.”

“....you want to have sex on a battlefield?” He really hoped he was misunderstanding what had just been said.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it, just not during battle. It sounds a little counterproductive.” Yeah, Van was not really at all surprised by the answer and had no idea why he’d somehow expected to hear otherwise. “But I mean it. Everyone keeps shying away from power like it’s something bad. You, the Emperor, Folken, the moon bitch... I refuse to be one of them. If we really do have this power, I say we embrace it and us it against our enemies!”

“You do realize that it was likely this sort of power that blew up Atlantis.” Van couldn’t help but point out and he both heard and felt Dilandau chuckle as those strong arms pulled him in a little closer. Soft lips traced along the back of Van’s neck, drawing out a soft sigh from between his lips. Alright... Dilandau made an excellent argument for possible world destroying sex...

“Oh please Van, I highly doubt that the world blew up because two teenagers achieved orgasm no matter how good. We’re hardly going to blow up Gaea, and if we did... honestly, I’d have to say that I’d sort of be impressed with myself on that one.” Despite his best intentions, Van found himself relaxing when faced with both the absurdity of them destroying Gaea, and the delicate sweetness of those kisses. Damn manipulative bastard. Why did he have to make being bad feel so good?

“Besides, think of the incredible impression we just made here with our arrival. These people worship Atlanteans and we just gave them one hell of a demonstration of our power. AND, to soothe your conscience, no one even had to get hurt. This really did just work out perfectly for us.”

“Mmmm perfectly would have brought us straight to Fanelia or Astoria... not Godashim. Besides, I think we’ve permanently traumatized that poor dragon into a deep seated fear of flying.”

“We’re still learning Van. Give us time to work out all the... kinks.” Dilandau favoured Van with a sharp nip before tracing his tongue over the now bruised flesh before reluctantly pulling away. “Now, let’s go calm Kamata down and convince him that we’re not going to crash this time before he eats someone I actually like.”

 

It had taken them nearly half an hour to calm the dragon down, then endure another ten minutes being lectured by both Ignis and Irma about not answering their door the first twenty times people had knocked at it. It seemed that people had attempted to wake them up since the power had first surged through the ship but had been greeted with silence. No one had dared break down the door to wake them, not even their siblings. Apparently being thrown into the ground once by Dilandau was enough for them to learn their lesson and they’d opted to keep their distance, believing that the two hadn’t been in any serious trouble.

The worst though by far was Rhusha, who’d simply smirked knowingly at them, as if they’d done something cute and adorable by his standards. This whole concept of everyone knowing the details of his sex life was more than a little embarrassing to Van and he was pretty sure that his blush was never going to go away at this rate.

By the time they were ready to disembark, Van was positive that he was never going to be able to meet anyone’s eyes ever again, a problem with was further exacerbated by Dilandau strutting about as if he’d just won some grand battle. Naturally, the zaibachi people were quick to rally behind the dragonslayer, no doubt praising his machismo and sheer manliness at having the sheer orgasmic power to move a whole damn leviship across a country. It really made him wish he knew enough of the language to be able to detail how their precious hero had been on his hands and knees yowling like a cat in heat. Actually, on second thought, no. Dilandau was utterly shameless and would likely still find a way to twist that into making him some sort of shining icon of his people.

The ship simply couldn’t land soon enough as far as Van was concerned but when it did, he practically let out a loud whoop of delight. Sure, what with the damage to the engines, it wasn’t the smoothest arrival they could have managed, but it was far better than the last ship Van had had the misfortune to be on and he couldn’t quite resist a glance over at Dilandau.

“Oh shut up Fanelia.” The dragonslayer snarked playfully, earning a snicker from Van and curious looks from the onlookers. They’d made it a point to walk on either side of Kamata, Dilandau holding onto one of his ears while Van kept a hand resting firmly on the dragon’s neck. Irma and Ignis walked by his hindquarters, their job was to keep an eye on his tail, something they were taking very seriously.

As with his entrance to Astoria, Dilandau had been provided with a hooded cloak to hide his identity, though of course, he opted to keep his wings out, reminding everyone who might see him that he demanded respect and veneration. As if walking in with a dragon at his heel wouldn’t accomplish that already in spades. Still, both he and Van were a little taken aback to see just how large an “honour guard” they’d been given.

“I think someone told them who to expect.” The king murmured softly, doing his best to remain calm, for Kamata’s sake if nothing else.

“Yeah... and me without my sword. Hey, two melef’s. They actually think that friggin melef’s are going to stop me?”

“Let’s not give them cause to use them. Remember, we’re here as allies.” Van said through gritted teeth, his eyes nervously scanning the guards who began to flank them, hands resting on sword hilts, bodies tense and ready to leap into action. It really didn’t bode well for the sort of reception they were going to receive inside the palace. Still, they’d passed the point of no return and could only go forward with confidence. They were draconians after all, Children of Atlantis... fate favoured them. He really hoped fate would favour them.

At least word of Dilandau’s identity hadn’t gotten out to the general populace. People milled about out of curiosity rather than malice and the crowd grew noticeably at the sight of the wings so boldly displayed... not to mention the dragon. Everyone always seemed to be drawn to the idea of a tame dragon which for some reason irked Van. Still, at least no one was screaming for death and throwing rotten fruit or anything like that.

Of course, as they walked down the roads, Van also couldn’t help but notice just how bad the damage still was in Freid, particularly as they approached the palace.... er... what had once been the palace. A good chunk of Godashim was still levelled, the rubble had been cleared from the main streets, but the damage to the buildings was still obvious and Van could almost imagine the heavy stink of smoke still lingering in the air. At least the bodies had all been cleared and the blood removed. He doubted anyone wanted to see those reminders... well, almost anyone. Present company excepted.

Most businesses and homes seemed to be made from carefully stacked rubble or more commonly, tents dyed in various colours. It created an almost festive appearance, belying the dire situation the people here were in. At least, it did so long as you didn’t look too hard. Most people wore clothes which had long ago grown threadbare and heavily patched from continued use and they crowded together beneath the meagre shade of the tents. What they sold in those darkened recesses wasn’t the usual high quality works of art, fine incenses and fresh produce he’d seen during prewar visit. Instead, the fruit was small and stunted or obviously gathered from deeper in the jungle rather than carefully cultivated fields. Others held junk which had been patched together in order to still be of use. Most of the tents though held families, huddled together in the shade, out of the hot sun, their precious remaining possessions gathered around them. It was heartbreaking.

True, they at last didn’t have the oncoming threat of winter looming over them, but their water was badly tainted from the battles and occupation, not to mention the many many dead which he knew were still being found. These people had been more than beaten in battle. They’d been shattered viciously by his brother and his machinations in his quest for the perfect future.

Most of the people wandering around were women, children and the elderly. A good portion of the young able bodied men of Freid had lost their lives during the initial attacks which had sacked the nation. Those who’d survived were often badly injured or emotionally shattered shells of who they’d once been. Crime had risen in the wake of the war as resources had become scarce and the people desperate. Losing their duke, their most holy priest, surrendering to Zaibach and seeing their palace collapse in on itself had all been just too much for the shining country to shrug off.

Van felt a deep stab of guilt as he realized that the prime cause of most of the countries woes was walking calmly at his side, likely noting the destruction with a certain amount of smug pride. He wanted to feel anger or resentment over the lack of contrition in Dilandau, but the king honestly couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d looked too long in the dark abyss which had been the dragonslayer’s life to remain unaffected and he knew deep down inside that he was just as capable of such darkness.

Still, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t help in some way to bolster the spirits of the people around them, and he held his had high, his wings proudly displayed and shining in the morning sun as he was led down the main promenade towards the mass of buildings and rubble site that was the new palace.

The closer they got to the palace, the worse Van actually felt. He could see the charred ruins of the vast courtyard he’d once trained in, honing his mystical senses. The verdant grasses and sculpted bushes were gone now, crushed in the collapse and now used as a sorting ground for pieces of rubble still large enough to be of use in the rebuilding. Tents had been set up to protect pieces of furniture and art which had been spared from the destruction and he could see several monks working tirelessly to restore the damaged pieces, hoping to save what they could.

Children stood in endless lines, passing down baskets filled with small stones and debris, doing their part to clear the area so rebuilding could take place while larger adults handled the heavier stones. Their bronzed skin was darkened and dulled by dust and their normally gleaming and pristine linens were ragged, torn and filthy. Still, he could hear voices raised in chorus as they chanted holy songs, encouraging each other and reminding themselves that trial builds strength and that nothing is forever, not pain, nor joy, everything was made precious by it’s transience.

There was a strange sense of peace about the palace ruins, a soft sadness and melancholy, but also a fierce hope which Van prayed was strong enough to keep these people going in the shadow of what was to come.

As they approached, the voices wavered and fell silent as people gawked openly, several gasping out prayers and thanks to the Ancient Ones for answering their call. All around them, eyes began to light up with hope as word quickly spread that the Children of Atlantis had finally come to Freid in their darkest hour.

As much as he wanted to bask in this glory, Van instead felt a small hint of trepidation and a voice which sounded remarkably like his brother softly warned that emotions were volatile and could all too easily turn against them. These people looked at the two draconians and saw redemption, likely believing that with a flap of their wings, all of their problems could be brushed away. They wouldn’t believe that it didn’t work like that, that the answers were never so easy. They would expect miracles and Van had no idea how to give any to them.

“They’re looking at us the way the Madoushi used to look at me.” Dilandau murmured softly to Van, his voice pitched not to carry at all. “Like they expect the world... and will tear me apart if I don’t provide it.” He sounded genuinely rattled by this and that more than anything scared Van down to his very bones. As if echoing the sentiment, Kamata gave a low and concerned sounding hiss, not liking this anymore than they did.

“It won’t be that bad.” Van found himself replying and wishing that he sounded more confident than he did. “Just let me do the talking alright?”

“I don’t have much of a choice on that.” There was just enough snark behind the reply to bring a hint of a smile to the king’s lips. “Just promise me that you’ll translate for me... before the conversation is over? I’d like to know what’s going on and if I should be acting accordingly.”

“It’s your idea of “acting accordingly” that worries me.”

 

 

Dilandau didn’t like Chid. It was one of those immediate instinctual dislikes which required no explanation as far as he was concerned. Still, his mind couldn’t seem to help but come up with reasons. Many many reasons.

Maybe it was the way the little brat looked almost identical to the child version of Celena, only with sun gold hair rather than pale platinum blonde... in fact, the colour was identical to Schezar’s. Another mark against him in the albino’s books. Perhaps it was the wide eyed innocence on his too familiar face, rubbing in the fact that Dilandau had never had eyes so bright or an open smile so ready to spread across his face.

Maybe it was the way he knew that the brat’s first action as Duke had been to surrender. It didn’t matter that the Zaibach forces had them beaten or that defiance would have spelled their doom. Duke Freid had been cold, calculating and more than willing to sacrifice everything to keep Zaibach at bay. Dilandau could respect that. Sweet Fate, he’d cheered in delight when the Duke had collapsed his palace on top of the intruding army, crushing friend and foe alike. His son was nothing compared to that.

All he saw seated on the raised dais on that strange malformed and cushion covered chair was a child pretending to be a man and failing miserably. It was a disgusting joke to know that this was the one who now held his life in his hands. A little blonde rodent who’d crawled on his belly for Folken then defied his conquerors the instant he’d thought that he could get away with it. The spineless little grub... and how DARE he look so much like little Celena. It was an insult to look into that chubby stupid face and see anything of himself...er...her!

At least the feelings of animosity seemed to be fully reciprocated. The instant that he had thrown back his hood, allowing those gathered in the crumbling and dilapidated throne room to see his moon-kissed skin and blood red eyes, the air had been filled with gasps of shock and horror.

A tall thin man draped in white and purple silks, wearing more gold than a high end whore leaned froward from his place just behind the overstuffed chair, whispering something into the young duke’s ear. Most likely it had been a confirmation of his identity because almost instantly, those too bright eyes had grown wide in shock, horror and disgust, then gone suspiciously flat.

It felt good to destroy the shine in those eyes and Dilandau silently vowed to himself to ensure that he repaid the little coward for every wound he and his men had suffered in this accursed land, tenfold. He could almost taste the rage radiating off of the brat and damn if it didn’t feel glorious. Behind him, his wings stretched out, the feathers spreading elegantly, as if to catch as much of the radiating emotion as possible, drinking it in.

Whether it was from the confirmation of his identity or the display that the wings were very much real, shock once again entered those eyes, as well as a strong rift of uncertainty. The courtiers who lined the length of the hall, kneeling like the defeated scum they were, all whispered softly amongst themselves in horror, their simpering tones no doubt reaching the little duke’s puny little ears. Yes, you pathetic little pipsqueak, undermine yourself before we even so much as say a word. Tremble before your damn gods and remember that I tore this country apart once and will gladly do so again! Sweet fate, the chaos his mere presence was causing was almost erotic.

Fingers still sheathed in baby fat clutched at the tiny toy sized sceptre of office tightly, as if it might be of some use should the Demon of Zaibach choose to prey once more on Freidian lives. Heh, it was obvious that the brat had never held a real weapon even once in his life. It was something he seemed to have in common with that fat pig Aston. A love of crawling on his belly before a greater power, and an inability to tell one end of a sword from the other. Sweet Fate, at least Van for all his faults could fight like a proper warrior. These “peaceful” countries were simply pathetic and begging to be conquered.

So why was he the one expected to bow his head in respect? He’d conquered these pathetic vermin. He’d torn through the greatest among them without breaking a sweat. It had been little more than a game to him, in fact he and his men had kept score out of amusement. Ten points for a guymelef, five for a melef and one point for each “insect” stepped on during the course of the battle. Just the memory of that fun little fight brought the edge of a smile to his lips as he locked eyes on the pint sized monarch.

Let Van bow his head or take a knee if that’s what he felt decorum required. There was no way he was going to sell his pride so cheaply.

Instead, he settled for indulging in a vicious grin aimed at the little blonde Celena imposter as Dilandau did his best to say “I crushed your father and your kingdom like a bug, and frankly, you don’t measure up in the slightest to his memory” with his smile alone. Judging by the glare he received, it was understood loud and clear.

 

Van had felt his confidence waver with every step he took closer to the throne. Between the unreasonable expectations written across the faces of everyone who looked at them, to the soft horror filled gasps which now filled the air around them, he knew this was going to require far more diplomatic skill than he honestly possessed.

The worst was seeing that warm welcoming smile on Chid’s face fade as if wiped away with a cloth at the instant he realized who was standing next to the king and he couldn’t help but shoot a quick glare at the bejewelled man standing behind the duke’s throne. He recognized Regent Ishaan easily after sitting across from him at the Allied Council often enough and found the man to be little more than a bipedal viper.

Wealthy, influential and wielding just as much actual power... if not more than Chid himself, the Regent was the one who in fact ruled the land until Chid came of age. The young Duke might sit on the throne, but he was little more than a figurehead. Worse, Van was more than a little convinced that Ishaan had no intention of relinquishing his power once Chid reached the age of fifteen. Of course, there was really no way to explain this to Chid, who depended heavily on the man for the day to day running of his court. One simply couldn’t expect a seven year old to sort out the dire mess the war had left this country in. The man was vital to Freid and damn well knew it.

“King Van Slanzer Fanel, we’re most honoured to have you return to our kingdom.” The man began, bowing low as he stepped up to stand beside the throne, neatly cutting off any greeting Chid might have given them. “It is good to see that you are well after the... terrible rumours we’d heard regarding your well being.” A pointed glance over in the direction of the dragonslayer, then those dark eyes returned once more to study Van, or more specifically, Van’s wings.

“I see that once again, you arrive full of surprises and with Zaibach at your heels. I do pray that this time it will end better for us?” Well, it certainly didn’t take long for the gloves to come off... granted, he was rather sure that the man had already been given a full report on the relationship between the king and warlord. That coupled with the fact that he’d been skulking through their country like a common criminal rather than heading immediately to the capital to make his presence known... yeah, it really didn’t look good.

“I assure you Duke Freid, we come in peace and are in fact fleeing a much greater enemy than before-”

“The only enemy I see is the one you’ve chosen willingly to associate with King Fanel.” The regent cut him off curtly with a dismissive wave of his hand which caused Van’s eyes to widen slightly in shock even as Dilandau’s narrowed dangerously. He didn’t need to understand the language to recognize the tones and body language.

“Say the word Van and I can reduce this room to a sepulchre.” He growled softly in the tongue of the beastkin.

“You’ll do no such thing.” Van kept his voice pitched as low a possible. While he wasn’t quite sure what a “sepulchre” was, he was pretty sure he could guess. It wasn’t like it was hard to deduce the dragonslayer’s intentions. Still, it said a lot that he’d actually given Van the lead in this situation and was basically asking permission in his own bizarre way rather than simply striking first.

“Duke Chid.” Van decided to try to appeal to the royal directly, ignoring the Regent as he stared into those wide guileless eyes. During the war, Chid had regarded him as a hero, not perhaps as shining and gallant as Allen, but still, someone he looked up to and trusted. If Van could win him over, then perhaps this could still be salvaged. “We were kidnapped from Astoria and taken against our will to Basram where we’ve been held captive for over a colour. Dilandau has been pardoned for his crimes and is sworn in service to King Aston. He’s no longer our enemy.”

“A soothing balm to all the widows and orphans he left in his wake I’m sure.” Regent Ishaan cut in ruthlessly. “I’m sure that they will find room for forgiveness in their hearts, after all, their empty bellies have left so much room for it. Did you see our city as you entered King Fanel? Did you look into the eyes of those who lost everything? We had once thought Fanelia to be kin in our suffering, but it seems that her king has.... other priorities.”

“And what are you attempting to imply Regent?” Van felt the growl in his voice as his wings rose up aggressively behind him, reminding all gathered here that he was more than a king. He was a creature of legend, and one which was rapidly growing tired of his ill treatment.

“He is stating that your actions are growing increasingly suspicious King Fanel.” A new voice spoke up. Van saw a flash of a faint smile on Ishaan’s face before everyone turned to face the new speaker. It was a shorter man, somewhat soft in the belly which spoke of a lifetime of easy indulgence, but a hardness to his dark brown eyes which warned that a mind as hard and sharp as a sword lurked within.

Van recognized the basrami features even before he took in the militaristic cut of his clothing and the dark lightly oiled hair which was slicked back out of the man’s face, giving him a severe look. A large pendant hung from around his neck, proudly displaying the twinned white serpents against the crimson background.

Just looking at it again made Van’s stomach churn, but he fought to keep the expression on his face as neutral as possible. Dilandau wasn’t nearly so reserved and Van felt the temperature around them drop significantly as the dragonslayer snarled in raw fury, his hand reaching for a sword which wasn’t there.

“Don’t give him what he wants.” Van cautioned the albino, mentally preparing himself to rip the rage out of his lover again if he had to, risks be damned. “These people want to condemn you, don’t let them.”

“They can’t condemn me if they’re already dead.” Dilandau growled softly. Despite the threat, the ghosts didn’t appear nor did anyone suddenly drop dead as their souls were ripped from their bodies, so Van decided to take that as a win.

“Suspicious?” The dark king asked, his voice wary as he studied the newcomer, daring him to come up with something to condemn him with. He was a damn king, a hero of the war and an ally of this country. More importantly, he was a good guy! He’d fought and bled for Freid just a much as any of their soldiers and he really hoped that the people remembered that.

“Yes indeed, in a most troubling manner.” Regent Ishaan replied neatly, his face almost mocking in it’s false gravity. “Rumours speak of you being kidnapped from Fanelia, but then you’re next sighted in the company of a war criminal... distressingly familiar with said war criminal. Now you claim to be kidnapped once more? Only to reappear with said villain by your side once again? You both are two of the most powerful warriors on Gaea, and yet this seems to have become almost laughably commonplace for you. Not to mention that reports state that there was very little sign of battle at Palas. Only a dead messenger... a witness perhaps? Did he hear something he shouldn’t have? Seen something perhaps?” Again, that knowing look bestowed on the two teenagers, smugly proclaiming that he knew exactly what the relationship between then was.

“After all, it seems that you have managed to fool all of Gaea into believing you to be dire enemies... Not that we blame you King Fanel. You are a good man and your nobility is known far and wide across all of Gaea. More greatly known however is the duplicitous manipulations of Zaibach, specifically their pet demon. You would not be the first young man to fall for the lies of the flesh, nor lamentably shall you be the last.”

“It’s not like that!” Van snapped angrily, feeling the blush rise up to his cheeks. Oh this was not going to plan at all! He looked imploringly at Chid who simply stared at him, looking hurt and confused, simply not understanding why one of his heroes could stand there willingly at the side of the man who’d torn the boy’s family apart so brutally.

“Come King Fanel.” The basrami man stated confidently. “We know that he seduced you, that he manipulated you into running away with him and that it led to the two of you and your little ragtag army attacking an innocent basrami city. We understand how you were blinded by his lies. Destroying a city, slaughtering the innocent without provocation, that is something he is lamentably well known for. He is a war criminal after all, the most vicious beast ever let loose upon Gaea.”

“I....is that true Van?” Chid asked softly, his huge guileless eyes begging the king to deny everything. “Do you love him?” He could see the glimmer of tears edging the boy’s eyes a he struggled to hold his emotions at bay, to obey the last words of his father and not cry, but Van could see the struggle easily enough, as could everyone else in court.

Dammit, he couldn’t lie. Not to Chid, and not to Dilandau. He couldn’t condemn the dragonslayer and betray his trust, not when he was just as much a victim as Van was. Even when things had been at their darkest in Basram, the albino had kept him going. Helping carry his weight, wash his body, keep his spirits up and even sacrifice his own dignity to keep the king safe. He couldn’t repay it with rejection just because it was suddenly more convenient to do so.

Reaching up, he clutched the shining feather handing around his neck, pressing it tightly against Hitomi’s pendant and took a deep breath before looking up and meeting Chid’s imploring gaze with his own.

“I do. I love Dilandau Albatou.” He stated clearly and confidently, not letting there be any doubt as to his words. There were horrified gasps, murmurs of utter outrage and several courtiers nearly rose to their feet, ready to walk out in disgust to see such a holy creature become so profaned as this. Through it all, Van never once let his eyes waver from Chid’s, willing the young duke to understand, to see that there was more going on than he was seeing.

Instead, he saw the flash of utter betrayal in those brilliant blue eyes and saw the colour drain from normally rosy cheeks. Chid’s face became distant, a closed off mask and he stared at Van as if he was a stranger. The Regent on the other hand appeared to be almost beside himself with delight as he moved in for the kill.

“Albatou? Odd. Did not King Aston proclaim that he is of the Schezar lineage? Younger sibling to Sir Allen? Quite fortunate then that the two never killed each other no matter how often they fought... in fact, wasn’t it Sir Allen who led the demon here? Sir Allen who guarded our most Noble Duke Mahad dal Freid, who allowed his sibling to tear apart our beloved leader’s guymelef, leading directly to his death? Yet, the Astorian knight miraculously survived without a scratch.” Van saw where this was going, saw he cruel glean in the eyes of the Basram envoy and knew that the jaws of the trap were closing around them.

“It wasn’t like that! Scherezade was nearly destroyed!” He argued, wishing that there was more he could say in the defence of his friend.

“Nearly? It’s arms were shattered, but the pilot left untouched. Rather unusual for one such as Albatou who was renowned for slaughtering his enemies ruthlessly on the battlefield. He seemed to waste no time in directly attacking the cockpits of every other unit on the field, so why the change in tactics? No, instead he allowed his brother to live and run, leaving Freid alone to surrender to Zaibach. Then, he survives the war, again with the intervention of Sir Allen, and now reappears in the Astorian court with a pardon and title? Enlisted in training new troops?”

“Now he attacks peaceful countries, slaughtering innocents and where is his brother? He’s been away from court, mysteriously vanishing yet in the company of the son of the Zaibach Ambassador to Astoria.” The Basram official struck, shocking the fanelian king into silence as he struggled to grasp the implications of it all. “Tell us King Fanel, does this sound like the actions of mere coincidence? Or perhaps something greater and far more dangerous at work? The Schezar’s are an old and powerful family. If they are truly in league with Zaibach, would it not make sense for that foul country to use their dark magics to create the perfect lure for you? A honey trap to ensure your loyalty and cooperation? You are young after all, impressionable and still so untested against the cruelties of the world.”

“You’re taking everything out of context!” Van shot at them, taking a step forward, his wings rising aggressively as he struggled to keep his voice calm. “You thought the worst of us once before, do you remember that Chid? You listened to the words of a doppelganger and it nearly cost us all everything! Don’t repeat the same mistakes again.”

“There is no shape shifter here King Van.” Regent Ishaan all but purred, clearly savouring his victory. “No one whispers words with the lips of another. It is your own actions, your own words which show the depth of your taint for all of Freid to see. Do not fear King Fanel, we do not forget our allies We will aid you in your time of need.”

The Regent gave his hand a negligent wave and the surrounding guards readied their weapons, their blades all pointing at the dragonslayer and their eyes all but shone with revenge.

“I take it negotiations didn’t proceed as planned?” Dilandau glanced over at Van, sounding remarkably calm given the situation, of course, the court had no idea that death surrounded the albino warlord. It simply waited his approval before finished what they’d started so many colours ago.

“Chid, don’t do this!” Van stared at the diminutive blonde on the throne, willing him to listen, to see what was happening. “You’re better than this!”

“Father said that the path before me would be difficult.” The young duke spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I had no idea it would be this hard. Hearing you say those words, seeing you defend that monster... How could you Van? After all he’s done!”

“Don’t condemn the future to spite the past Chid!” Van shot back. “Freid has long valued the wisdom of the Children of Atlantis, so listen to me now! If Dilandau dies, Gaea is doomed! He’s agreed to help us! He’s NOT the enemy any longer.”

“SHUT UP!” Chid leaped to his feet, his eyes blazing with azure fire. One small trembling hand pointed accusingly at the dragonslayer as the boy all but snarled in hatred. “He murdered my father! He laughed as he tore his armour apart! He laughed as the palace crumbled! That monster took away everything from both of us but you DARE to speak for him? To seek our forgiveness? Look at him Van! LOOK AT HIM!” Van couldn’t help but obey, looking over at the beautiful dragonslayer who’s smouldering eyes studied the young duke pitilessly, narrowing in response to the rising tension in the room even as those silken soft lips of his tightened in a faint snarl.

“He’s not sorry, he doesn’t care about the lives he took, the pain he caused! Do you think he’s ever shed a single tear for the cities he’s ruined? Wings or not, he’s no Child of Atlantis! He’s a demon and suffering follows in his wake!” Those fierce eyes now looked at Van, tears threatened to spill down those soft rounded cheeks and Van was more than a little disconcerted at how closely Chid resembled the child form of Dilandau he’d seen in that strange dream. Only the colouring was wrong... they were practically twins of each other.

“He killed my father Van. He killed Voris, and Siddharth and Anic and Zayn. So many others are dead because of him. No forgiveness will ever bring them back, no tears shed will lessen the pain of their loss. He cost us everything. We can’t risk paying any more.”

“The Duke has spoken.” Regent Ishaan’s voice rose up, silencing everyone with it’s weight. “Dilandau Albatou, the Demon of Zaibach will be held in the dungeons and will pay for his crimes against the country of Freid and the people of Gaea. King Van, you will remain our honoured guest as we cleanse you of his... taint.” The man smiled at the two teens, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “As for your army. They will be held in custody to ensure compliance. As an enemy army within out borders, we are fully within our rights to execute them for this act of war. However, Freid has seen enough death. So long as you and the demon cooperate, they will come to no harm.”

“You would stoop to using hostages?” Van snarled, loathing the man standing above Chid, wanting him dead and bleeding more than anything. Worse, he knew that all it would take was a nod of his head, and Dilandua would release his men. They would tear through the palace, killing innocent and guilty alike... they would tear the life out of Chid, leaving his small body laying there on his throne, ending the line of Freid forever. Dammit!

Dilandau studied the swords pointing at him, the raised voices and look of utter rage on the pint sized royal’s face and knew that the situation was well and truly fucked. Worse was the gloating looks shared between the Freid Regent and Basami ambassador. Two dragons, one shot. They would remove an enemy, boosting the morale of their people, force Fanelia over to their side, and present a united front against Astoria when war finally did break out. It was rather neat and tidy when you thought about it. Folken would have been impressed. Of course, that was assuming that anyone walked out of this throne room alive.

The tip of his tongue wet his lips as his fingers tightened around an imaginary sword hilt. The temperature dropped around him, invigorating and full of beautiful promise.

 _“Be careful sir.”_ Gatti whispered in his ear. _“Kill them and you lose Astoria, they won’t protect you from an act of war.”_

“You’re implying that we’ll leave a witness.” The captain hissed softly, smiling at the thought of just how much damage they could do. Pity he didn’t know how to control that strange power of his and Van’s. He’d love to twist these pissants into warped versions of themselves... perhaps mingling them with those potted plants by the wall, then he could pluck them apart, one leaf at a time while they screamed....

 _“Van wouldn’t forgive you and you need him. You can’t win this war alone sir.”_ Shesta spoke up next, causing the albino to glance over at the floating spectral team, his eyes narrowing.

“Did you all lose your balls in the afterlife? I thought you wanted revenge!”

 _“Fried didn’t kill us sir.”_ Miguel murmured gently from behind him. _“Our decisions did, Folken’s fate twisting did, a hundred little choices, actions and reactions led to our death._ _However, i_ _f you want us to sir, if you order it, we’ll kill them all without hesitation.”_

 _“But we’d advise against it sir.”_ Guimel spoke up now, his voice sounding surprisingly gentle against the hostility of the room. _“Death begets death.”_

“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.” Sweet Fate! Was he surrounded by soldiers or pacifists? This was insane! “Talk to me Van.” He looked over at the Fanelian king, hoping that at least someone had retained their common sense. “Am I turning this place into a graveyard?”

Breaking his stare with the tiny duke, Van met Dilandau’s eyes and the dragonslayer sighed, already guessing the answer. It was odd really, he’d spent the better part of two colours seeking out his death, but now that it was being so freely offered, he found that he had more important things to do. It was rather annoying really.

“Fine.” He spat in disgust before turning to the duke and flashing his most fearless and defiant grin as he murmured softly to his beloved soldiers. “Men, if they do kill me, I charge you to rip every single living thing in this country to pieces. Men, women, children. Every fucking blade of grass had better be brown and brittle. If these people dare strike me down, I want it to serve as a warning through the ages of what happens when you fuck with demons.” He thought for a moment, his smile fading slightly. “And if they harm either Ignis, Irma or Kamata, the same orders stand, only leave the brat alive. I want him to live a long agonized and cursed life. He’ll be the stuff of legends.”

 _“Understood sir.”_ They chorused, accepting their charge without argument.

“Dilandau Albatou, do you have anything to say for yourself?” The Regent sneered at him in astorian, obviously having already condemned him to some fate of other judging by the furious look on Van’s face.

At first, Dilandau opened his mouth, ready to throw a mocking tirade at them, tearing open the deep wounds he’d left on all of their hearts, but he glanced back at Van, at the feather hanging from his neck, then the shining pendant tangled among the shining barbs.

“A wise man once said to me that we all have the power within ourselves to make our own destinies. We can choose our own fates.” He cocked his head to the side slightly, remembering how he’d mocked those words and seen them as little more than stupid drunken ramblings. Now however, he was learning the weight behind them. “I’ve never been in control of my fate. I’ve been a weapon from the first breath I ever took.

“I have that power now. I choose my own destiny for better or worse. It’s mine and none shall ever hold that power over me again.” He smiled at the Duke, the Regent, then slowly turned to look at the Basram ambassador, wondering just how much the man knew. How complicit was he in what happened to them?

“But you see, destiny is a fickle thing. How others perceive you also holds power. If people see a monster, they will treat it as such, they will believe in it’s evil with all of their heart, and in the end, the monster will be as real as you or I and nothing will remain of the man.

“In having that power of destiny, we seek to impose it over others, to bend them to our will to create our own vision of a perfect world.” He let the term drip with all of the scorn it deserved.

“Emperor Dornkirk believed that. Strategos Folken believed that, and I see many hearts here who believe that as well.

“You wish to condemn me for my past actions despite the warnings of those you claim to venerate. You’re choosing your own fate and I applaud that.” His smile turned into a knife’s blade as he looked back at the duke, letting the boy see just how little the dragonslayer thought of him. “But you are no better than the Emperor, than the Strategos... than me.” He sneered cruelly. “You want to show your power over me. You want to prove that you’re the heroes and for that you need a monster. If you believe it hard enough, then truly a monster I shall become. A monster the likes of which you’ve never dared to dream. But be careful little Duke. It’s not easy being the hero, and you’ll only be one for as long as those around you believe it. Choose your fate well.”

“Is that all?” The Regent didn’t sound impressed at all as he stared down his nose at the slender albino who drew himself up to his full height, allowing his wings to flare out dramatically behind him.

“No.” Dilandau couldn’t quite resist grinning. “I have one last thing to say. Your father was a lot of things Chid. One thing he wasn’t was a coward. Pity you’ve taken to hiding behind the skirts of others. I’m sure the view is lovely, and it’s oh so convenient to get you used to the level of asskissing you have ahead of you. Just remember, spread the cheeks gently and go around the rim a little before diving right in. It’s more satisfying for everyone.”

Hmm, so that’s what a court looked like when they were too shocked for words. Damn, that was actually hilarious. He’d kill for a shadowgraph of this moment so that he could remember it for the rest of his life... the whole remaining ten minutes of it.

“You disgusting bastard!” Regent Ishaan hissed at him, stepping in front of the duke as if to shield him from the “vile demon.” Rather than be offended, Dilandau simply raised an eyebrow elegantly, giving the boy a weighted look as he peeked around the legs of his advisor.

“See?”

“TAKE HIM TO THE DUNGEONS!” The Regent all but screamed, his face twisted up in righteous fury. The guards began to move forward, all wishing desperately to spill his blood, but none wanting to be the first to enter into his reach.

Still smiling, Dilandau continued to watch the little duke, a mocking grin on his face.

“Two hundred and fifty four.” He stated, fully aware that while the living didn’t understand the insult, the dead gathered around him certainly did, and they laughed in sadistic amusement, each one softly calling out their own score and mentally wondering how soon they would add to it.

Van, always the hero, moved to intercept the approaching guards, his arms held outstretched, as if to ward them away.

“Chid! You can’t do this! He’s not the enemy!”

“Stand down Fanelia.” Dilandau murmured gently, favouring the king with a warm smile. “Don’t throw away everything for me, not like this.” He fixed his lover with a steady stare and let the king feel his confidence in the look. “You’re a king Van Fanel. Time to start acting line one.”

Leaning forward, he gently kissed those dark trembling lips, the touch chaste and tender, so much like their first tentative kiss that it actually made his heart ache in his chest as he drew away.

“You know the stakes. Don’t let me down.” He whispered softly, his eyes hardening for a moment, the energist glow flickering in their depths, letting the king fully understand what the price of failure would cost.

Stepping away from Van, Dilandau turned to face the guards, holding out his hands and pressing his wrists together.

“No one controls my fate.” He stated loudly to the court. “I make my own destiny.”

“Chain him up tightly.” The Regent growled, not liking the taste of having his flawless victory soiled even slightly. “You’ll be no doubt pleased to learn that our dungeons survived your attack mostly intact.” His lips twisted into what could only be described as a parody of a smile. “Put him in the cell his man once occupied. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the sentiment behind it.” This time the man grinned as he saw the burning confidence waver in those unnatural eyes and shards of pain shine through. Yes, that barb had certainly hit it’s mark. He would look forward to tearing the spirit of this demon apart. It would immortalize his own glory for generations to come and seal his own rise to power.

 

Merle couldn’t help but grin a little in satisfaction as she saw the upstart racing across the training grounds, practically dropping down to all fours as he raced towards the group of knights who were just about to begin their warm up drills. His shirt was unbuttoned, his weapons clenched in his hands rather than hanging off his waist on a belt and he’d clearly run all the way from the barracks. Heh, not so prim and proper now. It was petty to take pleasure in the suffering of another, but he deserved it for always looking down on her, as if he was so much more important than she was because he dressed and acted like a human.

“You’re almost late recruit!” Gaddes barked pitilessly even as several of the assembled knights snickered knowingly, sharing cruel grins with each other. “What’s your excuse?”

“Sorry sir.” Cassian gasped, quickly strapping on his sword belt and moving immediately into his drills, slipping into pace with those around him seamlessly enough to earn himself fresh scowls from those nearby. “Seems a table found it’s way in front of my door. I had to crawl out the window.” The beastkin shot a sidelong glare at the nearest group of snickering knights, his ears flattening against his skull even as his long tail lashed back and forth.

“Crawled out the.... Aren’t your rooms on the third floor?” The sergeant paused in his rounds to glance over at the youth, a thick dark eyebrow raising in shock.

“Yes sir.” Merle was actually rather impressed that the man managed to keep the worst of the shock off of his face at that realization, though he did spare a quick glace at the less than innocent looking nobles nearby, noting their gloating smiles and barely restrained snickers.

“Be more careful with where you leave tables in the future.” He snapped callously, refusing to give the appearance of any sort of softness. “Just because your partner is away on a mission doesn’t mean you get to loll about”

“Understood sir!” There was just enough of an edge to the youth’s tone to make it sound almost insolent and Merle couldn’t help but shoot Gaddes a sidelong look as the man walked past her.

“Going soft on him isn’t going to earn you any points.” She observed dryly, idly sharpening her claws with her nail file necklace. “It just makes you seem weak in front of all the others.”

The man paused in his pacing and glanced over at her, a faint frown darkening his handsome features.

“Sabotaged equipment, spoiled food, barricaded doors. You know just as well as I do that they’re trying to drive him out. I’m not going to help add to it.”

“But you’re not stopping it either.” She smirked in amusement, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth as she watched one of the men narrowly miss the other cat with a sword jab. It was really only the beastkin’s superior reflexes which saved him from a rather nasty bruise. “Doesn’t that sort of make you a negligent boss or something?”

“If I step in, it will only make things worse.” Gaddes grumbled, noting the errant sword swing as well but saying nothing about it for the moment. “I’m only stepping in if it actually becomes dangerous.”

“Not so brave without your pale little pet. I guess he was the one with the balls?” Her face remained perfectly innocent as he fixed a rather pointed glare in her direction. They’d have this fight almost daily since their reunion, but Merle saw no reason to stop now when she so obviously held the moral high ground.

“The least you could do is try to get along with Cassian. He could likely use a friend seeing as Regis is away... or at least someone who isn’t trying to break his spirit.”

This time she didn’t even bother hiding her snort of contempt at the suggestion. Be friends!? With that arrogant fluffy tailed bastard? Not a chance! He’d called her a housecat when they’d first met! Well at least she wasn’t the one trying to act like a human, wanting their silly titles and training to be all fancy in their courts. At least she hadn’t forgotten her roots!

“Not a chance. Whiskers can buy his own friends. I mean, that IS how he got into this little boys club isn’t it?” Merle sneered at Gaddes over the edge of her file. “Buying his way in? Or did he find other methods of payment? You seem to like them young and pale after all.”

“Don’t you have more constructive things to be doing right about now?” The man snapped at her, clearly having enough of her little snipes. In return, Merle simply grinned at him, utterly unrepentant.

“Nope!” She could actually see Gaddes counting to ten several times before addressing her again in a voice that sounded more than a little strained.

“Look Merle,” He began, pausing for a moment as he cast aside several things he was about to say in favour of a more politic response. “Everyone in that group bought their way in and he’s one of the few who’s not doing it for a title. He just wants to fight for something. I’d have thought that you’d be all for beastkin equality. You can’t possibly like people looking down on you.”

“Personally I don’t care. People don’t expect much from me.” Merle stated flatly. “They let me do what I want when I want. It’s you humans who spend all your time wasting it on stupid things like work and politics and status. None of that really matters in the end, so why bother?”

“Is that why you spend so much time helping Princess Millerna?” He flashed her a knowing grin and she felt her ears flatten slightly against her skull in response.

“I help her because I want to.” She stated primly, coiling her tail around her feet. “Not because I have to. Besides, I want to be there when Mr Sleepy Head wakes up. I’m going to be the first one demanding that he tell us what happened to Lord Van. And if he doesn’t give me an answer I like, he’d gonna wish that he never woke up.”

“You do realize that at this point, knowing what happened doesn’t matter so much as learning what’s going on right now.” He pointed out in a too practical voice which made her fur bristle in warning. “It doesn’t matter who has them anymore. I just want them back.”

“Yeah, fat lot of good you’re doing in that department.” Merle hissed, getting up to her feet having decided that she was bored with this conversation.

“We’re all helping in our own ways Merle.” Gaddes stated. “And right now I’m asking you to lend a hand here. Take Cassian with you when you go check on Palos, show him a little of the medicine that you’re learning or something. The kid needs to get a chance to unwind a little without worrying about getting a knife suck in his back.”

“What, because we’re both cats we should get along?”

“No, I’m hoping you’ll both work together because I’m asking you to. This isn’t about ego’s Merle, it’s about protecting Gaea. He wants to help with that and I’m damn well going to make sure he lasts long enough for Dilandau to see his talents for himself. Are you going to help me or not?”

Dammit, she should claw his eyes out just for being a presumptive prig. It’s not like she wanted to do anything to help that little white bastard. Quite the opposite in fact... but she’d heard enough around the palace to know that Van had attended these lessons too and seemed to be fully supporting them. If he saw a point to them, then they had to be important, and if they were important to Van, they were important to her. Which meant that she had to help out Gaddes and take care of stupid Mr. Fluffytail!

 

 

“So, this is what you do all day? Stare at some boring dead guy?” Cassian stared down at Palos’ still body with detached interest, taking a moment to casually poke the man in the cheek once with a clawed fingertip. With an impatient growl, Merle slapped his hand away and glared at him.

“First, he’s not dead, he’s just sleeping or something. Secondly, you don’t get to poke him.”

“Why? It’s not like he’ll know. He’s pretty much just meat right now. Why are they even bothering wasting their time on him?” Slanted golden eyes surveyed the rather boring looking human, noting his gaunt pale appearance, the fact that his cheeks needed to be shaved and that his hair had grown beyond what was considered fashionable. For a Royal Messenger, he certainly looked ragged. Of course, the bag dripping fluids into a tube which was attached to his arm was more than a little interesting, though his attempts to poke at it were quickly aborted by Merle who seemed utterly intent on ensuring that he was bored out of his skull during this stupid assignment.

“Why am I even here again?” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting down on the edge of the bed, his tail idly flicking over the messenger, swatting him in the face a few times, not that he’d notice. “This is utterly boring and pointless. I could be practising with my daggers or something.”

“Get off the bed before I knock you off.” Merle muttered as she checked the liquid levels of the bag and turned a few little knobs to adjust the flow. “And you’re here because the humans are picking on you and Gaddes didn’t want you to run off in tears like a little kitten.”

Merle allowed herself a slight smirk as she caught a flash of wounded pride on the other cats face before he hid it behind his usual mask of bored indifference.

“Hmph, there’s only one little kitten here, and I assure you it’s not me.”

“Oh, you _assure_ me do you? Now you’re starting to sound like them too. Next will you start wearing lace and eating with the proper cutlery?” Her smirk grew into a full fledged mocking grin. “You’re just a wannabe human, hoping that if you pretend hard enough, they’ll forget that you have a tail, fur and claws.”

“Better that than running around on all fours and not wearing pants.” He shot back. “Honestly, our species in particular has to deal with enough sexualized stereotypes and jokes, do you have to add to them?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my dress!” Now it was Merle’s turn to bristle as she spun around to glare at him. “Van loves this dress!”

“Mmmm, teenage human boy with no sex life to speak of. Yeah, I can’t imagine why he’d love a dress that made you flash your bits more than a dockyard whore.”

“WHAT!?!?!” Her claws punctured the bag she was checking, making her swear and scramble to quickly patch it up with some adhesive bandages on a nearby tray.

“I’m just saying that people have made comments... it’s not like you’re a little kitten anymore after all. Several of the nobles in class have a bet going on just what exactly your relationship with the king actually entails.”

“It’s not like that!” She hissed angrily, glaring at him for a long moment before forcing herself to look away. Loneliness welled up inside her in the wake of the cruel jibe. No, it wasn’t like that, no matter how much she wished it was. She was never going to be what he wanted, or what he saw as desirable.

“Now who wants to be human?” Cassian murmured in her ear, barely leaping back in time to keep her claws from embedding themselves in his cheek. Grinning cruelly, he laughed in utter delight, baring rather sharp fangs which were much longer than her own dainty set. “Oh Jeture, the look on your face! You really do want him like that! This is like some bad minstrels song! Oh you are DOOMED when you go into heat! Heh, crawling after him on your belly, begging for attention... He likely won’t even notice the difference.”

“Yah we’ll it’s not like you’re ever going to see it!” Merle snarled at him, feeling her cheeks turn red hot in humiliation, though they didn’t even come close to equalling the flames of her rage.

“Oh don’t worry little house cat. My littlest sister is older than you are. You couldn’t pay me to touch you. Nope, you’re going to have to just keep lusting after your little king, and warm the foot of the bed he shares with his queen.”

“You really are a bastard aren’t you.” She snarled at him, only to receive a nonchalant shrug as Cassian’s attention returned to the still body of Palos.

“In the literal or figurative sense?” His voice trailed off as he noticed the heavy stitching on the man’s neck and he leaned closer to examine the deadly wound, grinning in morbid delight, his earlier baiting completely forgotten. “Wow! He really got his throat slit huh?”

“No, it’s just a new astorian fashion statement. Of Course he got it slit. Why do you think he’s still unconscious!? That’s not the sort of thing you walk away from.” Merle snapped, not ready to let his previous insults go simply because his attention had shifted. Shoving him out of the way with perhaps a tad more force than was necessary, she picked up a warm damp cloth from the table. “Now back off and stay out of the way, I need to clean his stitching.”

“Fine fine, what exactly am I supposed to do?” The other cat grumbled, reluctantly giving way and growing increasingly uneasy with the ever growing malicious smile she suddenly shot in his direction.

“Bedpan.”

“Bed-what?” His ears flattened as he looked towards the wide flat pan shaped object she was pointing at. Oh Jeture’s balls no.

“Bed Pan. Help him relieve himself then clean him up. It’s what you get for being such a shit.”

“So you’re a house cat AND a nursemaid. They have you well trained. Do you do tricks on command?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Kill down really good. Wanna see?” She shot him a narrow eyed glare as she tossed him a set of the uncomfortable rubbery gloves Millerna always insisted she wear when touching the patient. It was supposed to stop diseases or something. While she wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, the princess seemed to be pretty confident about it. Maybe it was another bit of zaibach technology they’d taken or something.

The look on Cassian’s face was something worth purring over as he stared at the gloves, then the pan in absolute horror which only grew as he realized that she wasn’t joking.

“You were sent here to help, so help. Or is Mr. Fancytail gonna go crying to Gaddes like a little lost kitten? Waaaah, Merle was mean to me! Waaaah, she made me actually serve a purpose beyond looking all pretty and fancy!”

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty do you?” Merle gave him a moment to allow his ego to properly inflate before popping it ruthlessly.

“Of course. But then again, so is Sir Blondylocks and Psycho Burnboy and you don’t see me drooling over them... and Whiskers, they’re both way out of your league, so go back to flirting with the laundry girls. I’m sure they’re all about the cat-kin stereotypes.” Oh yeah, that felt good. Feeling more than satisfied at his look of utter shock, Merle returned to her work, pausing just long enough to nudge the pan over in Cassian’s direction.

Thankfully, Palos’ stitching was clean and only needed a few careful wipes of her cloth to keep everything in order. Millerna had said that the ones inside had likely already dissolved away as the tissues healed, but the outer ones would have to be removed physically. It would leave a scar, and they had no idea if the messenger would ever speak again, but at this point, he should be thankful to just be alive.

“Is it true that you were the one to find him?” Her fur bristled at the question and she spared a glare over her shoulder at the taller white and grey furred menace lurking in her shadow. While he had made no move to pick up the bedpan, he didn’t look like he was asking maliciously.

Her initial instinct was to bristle her tail and then flay him alive for asking such a rude and emotionally volatile question, but she stopped herself in time. Really, he had no way of knowing how horrible that moment had been, bursting through the door, smelling all that blood... seeing Van’s sword laying there in a cold pool of crimson...It had felt like her life was ending all over again.

“Yeah... I found him.” Her voice sounded flat to her ears and the tone didn’t lend itself to more questions. At least it wouldn’t had the other party any ounce of decency within them.

“This scar is huge, there must have been blood all over the place.” Ugh, did he have to sound so delighted about it? She just knew that her tail was already bristling and lashing back and forth, though she tried hard to keep it under control.

“Do you think that any of the blood belonged to King Van or Captain Dilandau?” Oh that was it!! Without warning, Merle picked up the bedpan and threw it at his big fat fluffy head! It made the most satisfying TWANG as it bounced off of his stupid thick skull. She wasn’t sure if it was the actual attack, the choice of weapon used, or the mild concussion that left such a look of shock on his face, but she still took great pleasure in seeing it.

“Have you ever considered thinking before speaking!?” She snarled at him, her fur standing on end and claws bared. “King Van is my best friend! If it wasn’t for him, you’d be licking Zaibach boots! Show some damn respect!... Now pick up that bedpan and get to work! You’re not here for your own entertainment!” Her voice rose in pitch and volume with every word and she stalked towards the larger male, not caring that he could very likely do some serious damage to her if he wanted to. Right now, she was more than ready to tear out his spleen and hand it to him as a lesson in manners!

“King Van was out there every day fighting to keep us all safe and what were you doing? You were hiding away in your fathers home telling yourself about what a great warrior you were going to be while other people, GOOD people were dying in the actual war!”

“You think I didn’t want to fight!?” Cassian yelled back just as heatedly, giving the already dented bedpan a sharp kick, sending it careening into the wall with a loud clatter. “I had to hear about the battles from servants and messengers! Listening to their whispers so that my father wouldn’t find out. All I wanted to do was help, but could only sit back and hear about how it was my duty to learn the family business, to study sums and figures or follow money trails like some glorified accountant! I’d train every spare moment that I could, but every day, all I could think of, all I could wonder was if I’d ever be able to us what I’d learned.” The two of them matched glares, growling loudly as their tails lashed back and forth violently. “You think I didn’t try to join the regiments when they marched? Well I did!” He took a step forward, bristling just as much as she did, his usual mimicry of human civility slipping away as he bared his teeth at her. “They laughed in my face! None of them took me seriously.”

“You still could have fought.” Merle pressed, refusing to back down after all she’d been through. In response, she got a cruel sneer.

“Alone? On my own against zaibach guymelefs? With no unit to back me up? I’m not suicidal.”

“I stood alone against zaibach guyemelefs.” Merle shot back, her sneer every bit as wide and condescending as his. “Two of them, when they attacked the Royal Wedding.” Her sneer shifted into a smug and self satisfied smirk. “Not everyone needs a regiment to stand behind them in order to be brave.”

“No, they just need the Escaflowne standing over them.” Cassian shot back. “Then I suppose even a housecat can grow a spine. Too bad, it didn’t seem to have lasted once the armour went away.” Forget what Gaddes had said about trying to help out by working with him. She was going to tear him apart!

A soft wheezing sound caught both of their attention moments before they could spring at each other and begin the blood bath for real. Two sets of feline eyes turned to look at the bed and the form laying atop it. Pale thin lips opned and closed, the motion weak and lacking definition, but it was movement! He was awake!

All previous anger vanished immediately as Merle all but pounced on the bed, straddling the man’s chest.

“MILLERNA!!! HE’S AWAKE!!!” She yelled out at the top of her lungs as she stared into startled pale grey eyes which were struggling to focus on her. “Tell me what happened to Van!” She demanded, already hearing the sound of many booted feet heading in their direction. It didn’t matter to her that the man was likely panicking or couldn’t breathe properly with her on his chest. She needed answers!!

 

 

“Look.” Allen jabbed a finger hard into the map, as if battering the poor paper would add weight to his point. “There have been three Zones of Absolute Fortune in a week! Two just within the past twenty four hours. We can’t afford to ignore this!” Four sets of eyes watched him with varying levels of agreement, but there was in the end, only one which counted. “The only times my brother has ever shown such abilities is when his very life was in imminent danger.” Another finger jab, this time grinding it into the map over the latest point. “If it’s been three times, that quickly together then he’s fighting for his life against overwhelming odds! We need to help him.”

Unmoved by the knight’s worry, General Adelphos studied the map closely. Each point where the Zones had manifested were marked with red, one in southern Basram and two rather close together just across the border in Freid. The point buried beneath Allen’s gloved finger was the latest one reported by their machines and was practically on top of the previous one. It was simple enough to draw a path and see that the cause of the disturbances was on the move.

“He was likely travelling by leviship up until this point.” The general motioned to the area just inside the Basram border. “Most likely, he was forced to land and proceed on foot. Geesha, you said that there was an energy flux in this area?” He motioned towards a small town where the Nostramos and the Silent Sea met. “Both Dilandau and Van Fanel were sighted in this area and we have reports of a massacre just outside of a local village.”

“Yes sir.” Regis stated, glancing at the map intently. “Reports also state that they were travelling with a clan of beastkin who payed for passage with armour and weapons of high quality. Likely plundered from whoever it was they’d killed. Their progress took them across the channel where they seemed to have acquired a much larger travelling group.”

“Heh, knowing Albatou, some idiots tried to attack them en route and he took them prisoner.” Sibille sounded more than a little amused as she leaned insolently against the table. Her negligent air was spoiled somewhat by the careful way she studied each of the marked points and their surrounding terrain, trying to discern some sort of connection between it all.

“Unlikely.” It was the sorcerer Geesha who spoke up, quickly ducking her head as attention focused on her for even a moment. “Subj-... Captain Albatou’s training would demand that he survive at all costs and reach his target destination as expediently as possible. He wouldn’t waste time with prisoners no matter how potentially valuable.”

“Van wouldn’t stand back and allow the execution of prisoners.” Allen interjected through gritted teeth. “No matter the situation, killing in cold blood would be beyond appalling to him.” While the others all nodded their head in assent, Sibille actually threw hers back in laughter.

“Oh that’s adorable, you really think that Albatou would give a rats ass what that little fanelian pipsqueak wanted? There’s no chance in hell he’d waste even a moment’s thought on anything outside of his own vested self-interest... oh sweet Dornkirk’s wrinkly left nut, they’re fucking aren’t they!?” Allen winced at the casual vulgarity, all too aware that he was never going to grow used to it. A second wince accompanied close on the heels of the first as the harridan pounded the table hard with her fist, spouting out another long string of obscenities. “Empty fate, that boy always did have a soft spot for anyone putting it to him regularly.”

“Madam, that is my little brother you’re slandering.”

“Blondie your little brother has been stuck by more swords than the training dummies at the Academy, accept it.”

“You dare insult the honour of the Schezar family?!” Despite years of training and his beloved code of chivalry, Allen found his hand reaching for his sword as his eyes locked with Sibille’s mocking green stare.

“I insult nothing you overgrown peacock.” She sneered in response. “I don’t give week old shit what that pathetic purulent bag of filth Aston called him, he’ll always be Albatou. Secondly, I’m insulting his bedroom habits, not his fighting ability so put your dick away before it gets hurt.”

“Sibille, that is quite enough.” Adelphos didn’t even have to raise his voice to make the harridan fall in line, something which Allen noticed and bristled at. Still, not even he could deny that when that cold flat grey gaze fell on him, he found his hand quickly moving away from his sword as if he’d been verbally reprimanded in the middle of high court. No wonder this man had risen to the rank he had. His personality alone was likely enough to keep even the likes of Dilandau in line.

Rather than back off completely, Sibille returned to studying the map as if nothing had happened, her shewed eyes taking in every little detail and weighing them against the vast knowledge provided to her by her various clandestine sources.

“Could one of those disturbances be a pillar of light?” She asked after a moment of thought. “For fucks sake, the little pale bastard could be sitting on the Imperial throne right now with Vashinels severed head at his feet just waiting to see how long before we notice him.” Sibille snarled, straightening up and pacing a little around the room, her previous “good humour” evaporating now that she was no longer baiting the knight.

Allen had to struggle not to obviously be caught paying too much attention to her irregular movements. After last night, he was finding it more than a little impossible to lower his guard around the woman for fear of another of her knives finding their way into his body. She didn’t seem the type to let one failed attempt stop her, and as if she could feel the weight of his thoughts, a sharp edged smirk was aimed in his direction. Was it just him or was her pacing causing her to move just on the edge of striking range... Ugh, he hated this country and hated it’s people!

Still, he forced himself to ignore the rather clearly displayed threat and focus on what truly mattered, locating his brother and friend before they got themselves into any worse trouble than they’d already found themselves in. While it was always possible that Dilandau had already slaughtered his way to a throne for sheer amusement value alone, there was a far more likely scenario.

“I don’t think he would.” He couldn’t help but glance over at the general as he spoke, aware that the man was likely thinking the same thing he was. “Twice now, Dilandau has called a Pillar of Light to transport him to safety and each time it’s brought him to Palas, specifically close to the Schezar manor. It’s unlikely that he would stray from that pattern.”

“Agreed.” Adelphos murmured. “And these two readings are, as you said, far too strong for a Pillar, at least compared to our previous readings.”

“That’s correct General.” Regis nodded his head, glancing through some notes he had spread out on the table by his hands. “But these last two readings are much smaller and more contained than the first.” He reached out and tapped the dot placed over the Basram location. “Our initial readings estimate that the original incident covered nearly a kilometre radius of area while the second two flares were roughly a hundred metres, give or take.” He glanced down at his notes and paled slightly, chewing on his lower lip nervously before looking up once more. “Of course, it’s difficult to fully estimate the extent of the damage at the Basram site due to the fact that the entire area has been blocked off and all surviving witnesses are in isolation.”

“Our initial surveillance shows vast structural damage to the interior and exterior of the fortress.” Sibille cut in when Regis paused for breath, the two delivering the information so smoothly that there was little doubt that they’d worked together before... likely often. It seemed that the sorcerers weren’t the only people young Lord Falafell was apprenticing under. “The fortress itself isn’t listed in any official reports and has long been suspected as being one of Basram’s Black Labs.” The name meant nothing to Allen but Geesha’s eyes widened at the name and she leaned forward, her eyes bright with renewed interest.

“We’ve acquired some shadowgraphs of the area and they’re low quality due to the distance involved, though we do have one image that you should see.” Regis pulled a large sheet of almost metallic looking paper out of his folder and placed it down on the table. A black and white image had been burned into the thin metal via some sorcerous method, capturing whatever has taken place in front of the viewer like a painting.

On it, Allen could clearly see several basrami soldiers dragging out a huge hulking form that appeared to be several bodies which had been invisibly bound together than melted, their limbs and features sliding about free from any skeletal limitations and creating a twisted patchwork monstrosity. The thing was the size of a melef though shaped like something out of a fever nightmare. What was worse was that the image had managed to be detailed enough to capture the looks of anguish on the twisted faces. Allen could almost hear them screaming out in agony and madness.

Unable to help himself, the knight cupped his hand over his mouth as he felt bile rise up in his throat. After years of battle, he’d long ago thought himself inured to the horrors of war, but this... sweet Jeture, this was an abomination to all that lived.

Scattered around the soldiers were other bodies, laid out in rows and covered with sheets. Many of the covered forms did not bear a human shape, hinting that this twisted amalgamation wasn’t the only victim.

“Are... are you saying that my brother... that Dilandau did that?” He ground out, his mouth feeling filthy at having to shape those condemning words. Their combined silence was answer enough. Not even Regis would meet his gaze.

Unable to remain standing, Allen slumped down onto a nearby stool, his eyes wide, staring sightlessly at the map as his mind struggled to come to terms with this terrible new reality.

He’d always known that his brother wasn’t stable, that his madness was dangerous. He’d even understood that during the war, Dilandau had committed unspeakable crimes without batting an eye... but this... Oh Jeture, how could he condone this?

“A chimera?” Geetha breathed in fascination, either not noticing or simply choosing to ignore the shocked man sitting next to her. “I count... at least six individuals in it. Do you know if it was alive at the time of capture? I’ve never seen a chimera created with more than three living beings. This could be an incredible breakthrough!”

Belatedly, she seemed to notice the uncomfortable looks she was receiving from everyone else at the table, her apprentice included. The fanatical light in her eyes dimmed and she wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself, glancing down at the shadowgraph, then the readings once more.

“It was alive at the time of capture, though heavily sedated and badly wounded. I’m unsure if the specimen survived transport.” Sibille replied, even her voice sounding somewhat tight as she struggled to return to her impassive reporting.

“If it was a chimera, this is an entirely new breed.” Regis cut in, focusing on the formulae rather than the image itself. “Reports state that other...creatures removed from the facility were...er... melded with in... inanimate objects or subjected to... unusual effects.”

“Pull yourself together boy and give your damn report.” Sibille hissed, cuffing Regis across the back of his head. For a moment, Allen almost felt a flash of pity for the youth as he visibly struggled to rise above the horrors he was seeing. Tears edged his stormy grey eyes and for on moment of callousness, Allen desperately hoped that the boy was realizing just what sort of nightmarish work it was that the sorcerers performed. Take a look at the true face of your science. He thought at the boy. This is what you people subjected my brother to. All of this is on your heads you black cloaked bastards.

“Do the details of their state affect the information we’re seeking?” Adelphos spoke up, giving the youth a rare moment of reprieve and was rewarded with a smile of deepest gratitude from the apprentice sorcerer.

“No... no sir... however... the readings...” Regis flipped through a few pages of his report. “While Captain Albatou’s energy signature were all over this and the other anomalies, there was a secondary signature detected as well. We didn’t notice it at first until we ran it through several filters. The two are almost identical, making it easy to miss, but it’s been present in all of the fluctuations we’ve registered.”

Van. Allen didn’t need to say the name out loud, it was written across the faces of everyone. Somehow, Van was involved in that nightmare made real... whether it was willingly or by coercion, Allen dreaded what it would have done to the kindhearted king he knew.

“Three times...” He found himself murmuring, his gaze focusing on the map, noting the progression into Freid, a kingdom already struggling to recover from the war, a kingdom filled with innocent people, ignorant of the approaching danger... a kingdom where his son lived. The boy had no way of knowing how much danger he was in, but Allen certainly did, and as a father, acknowledged or not, he was left with only one choice. “We need to intercept them.”

Before he realized what he was doing, he was on his feet, his hand once again resting on the pommel of his sword, as if daring the others to try to stop him.

“It’s only a matter of time before they reach a populated area. If another of these... Zones of absolute Misfortune appears in a town or Jeture spare us... a city...” There was no need to elaborate, the faces of everyone at the table paled visibly and even Adelphos seemed shaken by the prospect. “I’ll take a ship myself if I must.”

“Lord Dilandau is clever enough to stay away from populated areas.” Regis argued halfheartedly, his eyes darting between the map, the image of that doomed creature and Allen, unable to rest on just one focus. “He knows he has to avoid people.”

“That might not be a viable option.” The general stated flatly. “Calamity follows that boy like a faithful hound. I have no doubt that he will find himself embroiled in chaos soon enough despite the best efforts of anyone around him. No. I’m in agreement with Sir Allen. He must be contained as quickly as possible until the risk is assessed and contained.”

The knight found himself gritting his teeth at how ominous that sounded, especially coming from the general’s mouth.

“Regis, you Sibille and Geetha will accompany Sir Schezar into Freid to reacquire Captain Albatou by any means necessary. Geetha, I am putting you in charge of containing him and keeping him tractable. Take what equipment you require to track his movements. Sir Allen, I trust you will be able to ensure that extreme measures are not required, but should they be, I would advise you that the safety of Gaea far outweighs family loyalty.

“Celena Schezar may have been your sister, but Dilandau Albatou is not your sibling. He is another creature entirely, one which simply happens to be using your sister’s body as an anchor. Do not let your emotions blind you to the danger. You refused to hold his leash and now that power has gone to another. I assure you that the blood loyalty you feel for him will not be paid in kind.”

Despite the horrors he’d just seen and heard of, despite the murderous history of the boy in question, Allen couldn’t quite shed the memory of those frightened eyes staring into his, full of trust and hope before the shields of cold hard cynicism slammed down over them. He remembered the looks of heart wrenching sadness and loneliness in eyes far too old to belong to a boy so young surreptitiously track him across the Crusade for weeks, waiting desperately for some form of acknowledgement.

Adelphos might have known Dilandau as a murderous demon without a shred of a soul or humanity, but Allen believed differently. He had to, or else in the end, there was nothing to fight for. Foul sorcery or not, Dilandau was his brother, a child born of the blood of the Schezar line and he would deliver him from whatever nightmare he’d found himself trapped in the way he hadn’t been able to for Celena. He owed it to his sibling... both of them.

“As you said, I don’t hold his leash.” He replied to the General, meeting his cold calculating gaze unflinchingly. “Van does. That gives us greater hope than before to end this madness.”

 

Van had no idea when exactly he’d lost control of the situation, but seeing Dilandau escorted away in chains, surrounded by armed guards... it was like a nightmare repeating itself over and over in his head. He couldn’t erase the image of how many times he’d woken up alone in that cold cell, knowing that the pale teen was being tortured and abused in ways he didn’t even want to think about. Each time, he’d look at that empty space on their tiny cot and tell himself that he couldn’t do anything to stop it, that he was powerless and had to accept this horror if he was going to remain even halfway sane.

Now, here he was, among his supposed allies, watching his friend... his lover be taken away by enemies. Despite his knowledge and trust in Freid honour, he couldn’t quite keep Lieutenant Antoni’s words from haunting him, asking if he could honestly keep the zaibachi people safe in Fanelia. He knew he couldn’t despite his best efforts or intentions. There would always be someone wanting revenge more than they valued their own lives.

Here... here there was only their own personal code of honour holding them back from their most hated enemy and Van had no doubt that more than one person would find themselves falling short and giving in to revenge and rage. There was no doubt that Dilandau was going to be hurt. Worse, Dilandau knew it. He’d seen it in resolution behind those fierce crimson eyes. The question was, just how far would it be taken, and where had the dragonslayer drawn the line with his men? What would be the crime that set them loose? Van had seen the spectres floating around their captain, prepared to do battle should it come to that, though so far, they’d stayed their hands. While it was a small comfort, the king was under no illusion that this was any indication of surrender.

Even now, only two had followed Dilandau out of the room, the rest remained hovering in place, a silent unseen threat of which only Van seemed to be aware of. Though they didn’t attack or make any aggressive moves, he couldn’t ignore the cold hunger in their eyes as they watched the living move about, oblivious to the death hanging quite literally over their heads.

“Put me in a cell with him!” He blurted out as the door closed, sealing the albino away from his sight. The separation was almost painful to the king and he could feel that yawning emptiness inside his chest as cold claws dug at his heart. He didn’t care about the floating silent threat presented by the dragonslayers. He didn’t care how he looked to the Freidian court. The idea of being separated from Dilandau after all they’d been through was simply too much for him to endure.

Regent Ishaan looked honestly appalled at the very concept being proposed and there was a nervous murmur rippling through the assembled noblemen.

“A king? Thrown in our dungeons?” Ishaan shook his head. “Such would be a declaration of war Your Majesty. No. We do not believe that you are in full control over your actions and it would be much safer to remove you from the demon’s influences. We shall have our most holy men examine and cleanse your soul from his taint so that you may see the world with clear eyes once more. It is the least we can do for one of the Sacred Children.”

Separation... they were going to leave Dilandau alone in the dungeons... isolated. Sweet gods of Gaea, that would likely set off that thing in his head, the sorcerer compulsions. He’d said that it was activated by isolation... Did Dilandau realize that? How long could he last before it happened? What would happen to the albino if it did? The idea of anyone touching him in that utterly servile state sickened him to his very bones, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to take control of his mind either. He cared for the albino too deeply to wrap him in chains no matter how well intended.

“You can’t do this! I need to see him! I don’t care if you throw me in the dungeons dammit!” He took a step towards the throne but froze as he saw the guards stiffen in response.

“You and your allies shall be our guests.” Ishaan replied smoothly, as if he was bestowing some great honour on the king. “Of course, the zaibach invaders will be imprisoned, but we hold no issue with the beastkin or your other more... unique travelling companions. However I would advise that you not insult our hospitality King Fanel, this has already been quite the diplomatic nightmare don’t you think? Why, a king can’t simply pop up in another county unannounced with an army at his back.” His tone was almost playful but Van heard the threat clearly.

He’d greatly overstepped his bounds and Freid was fully within their rights to impose sanctions against Fanelia for the insult. With winter on it’s way, Freidian food would be the only thing keeping his countrymen alive through the cold months and they damn well knew it. He couldn’t afford to give even further offence no matter how wrong this was.

Dilandau had told him to act like a king... he had no doubt that there was a hidden message in there, but it still held true. He had to act like the Fanelia king and that meant putting his people first, no matter how much it broke his heart to do so. At least... at least if the other zaibachi were in the dungeons, that should help Dilandau fight off the conditioning.

Despite this faint thread of hope in his heart, he still felt eerily numb as the guards guided him out of the Great Hall and into one of the rebuilt wings of the palace. They surrounded him as they had with the albino captain, though their weapons weren’t drawn and they kept a somewhat respectful distance. King, Ancient Child of Atlantis, ally... all of that seemed to have paled in comparison to his declaration of love for a demon. Still, Van didn’t regret saying it. He knew that few would agree with the choice his heart had made and this was likely only the beginning of the ordeals he was going to endure.

The room which was to be his cell was large enough and well appointed by Freidian standards, which meant opulent rugs in stunning colours and patterns, lovely tapestries covering the walls and fine delicately carved furniture edged in gold. The bed was soft and welcoming, something he couldn’t help but think that Dilandau would have loved. There was even a sitting room for hosting company, a small nook for meals and a private bathroom with its own commode and bath. All in all it was rather luxurious and could easily pass as any other room in the palace intended for guests until you noticed the windows.

They were little more than thin arrow slits. Wide enough to allow in some light and air, but far too narrow to allow anything fatter than a swallow to pass through. For all its comfort, the room was a cage and he knew it.

Stepping in a little further, he heard the door close behind him, followed by the heavy sound of a sturdy lock sliding into place, then the thunk of a brace board. They were taking no chances here. No doubt, two guards were stationed on the sides of the door as well, just in case he managed to use draconian magic of some sort to escape.

Heh, as if he could manage something as helpful as a pillar of light or a burst of raw energy that would twist the doors into splinters. Alone, he was useless, only able to locate things and sense the unseen....

Spinning around, Van saw the huge ragged black wings fanning out behind him, each feather drawing in the light and snuffing it out mercilessly. He smelled ashes, flames and an ancient world crumbling to dust around him as the echoes of a dying race’s screams reached his ears.

“It’s about time you noticed me young one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rather like Merle and Cassian, no blow is too low! Sometimes cats just don't get along no matter how hard you try. This is going to be one of those cases.  
> Just in case anyone was thinking that Dilandau was getting soft and fluffy or too OOC, a nice little snippet into his thoughts regarding Freid. The boy is still an evil vicious little beast because really, he's had no real reason to give a crap about anyone other than those who are working for/with him towards one of his goals, or people he considers to be his. Yeah, he's decent...er...tolerable...um... not rampantly homicidal towards Van, and downright protective of the siblings and Kamata, but that's it. Further emotional development will have to occur when he's not being physically and mentally traumatized on a semi regular basis. Though, I do feel really really sorry for any guard who tries to get revenge on him. If the Dragonslayers don't tear them apart, Van certainly will... of course, our little dark king seems to have his own set of problems to deal with.  
> Really, Van is so adorable, fighting against teenage hormones... and losing. He's trying so hard to be a good and noble hero. It's fun to explore how the two are egging each other into trying different patterns of behaviour and I'm curious to see which ones stick with whom.  
> I have to admit to a certain amount of giggling at how our Zaibach team is freaking out over what horrible calamities are creating these Zones of Absolute Fortune, when really, most of them are because of two horny teenagers. Silly people and their assumptions. Still, it is sweet to see that despite everything, Allen is sticking with Dilandau as his brother. Too bad he never seems to get up the guts to let the poor kid know it.  
> If anyone is upset over how Chid is pretty much being pushed around... keep in mind, he's 7 years old and in charge of a country devastated by war. He's utterly dependent on the advice of his council and Regent. The kid has likely been quickly trained to sit there quietly and let the adults speak. Also as for being quick to condemn Van... He was willing to stand back and let Allen be thrown to the wolves on the say so of "Plaktu", and here, it's Van himself basically admitting to a rather treasonous relationship. Poor kid, he's gonna grow up with trust issues.
> 
> Next Chapter: Burning bridges, plotting plots. People are busy.


	17. Truths and Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a moment of introspection for themselves, and those around them. Some less than pleasant truths are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter (for me) as I set up some nastiness for all involved. Sit back, and enjoy the ride.   
> I'm also doing artwork by request of scenes from the story and will be posting them on my Tumblr and deviant part pages under the name Nehasy. Some will be NSFW (gasp) but I hope that people enjoy them. If you want to see a scene drawn out, let me know.  
> Finally over the stupid cold of death that seems to have ripped through town, dropping everyone for over a week at a time. I was miserable for a whole week and recovering for the next two. My cough has finally pretty much died but I'm still taking steroids. (yay drugs!)

“You probably shouldn’t be on top of him when those guards come in.” Cassian stated in a rather bland voice, taking several steps back from the bed, just in case anyone tried to associate him with the crazy orange ball of fluff.

“Shut up Whiskers. I need to know what happened!”

“You think the guards will care when they bust in here and see you attacking a Highborn? They’ll throw you in the dungeons and who knows how long it will be before someone remembers that you exist.” He drawled, in the most condescending tone of voice he could muster. “And I’ll likely be tossed in with you as guilt by association.” He added, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not throwing away my one shot at making a name for myself as a warrior just because you can’t control yourself.”

“Coward!”

“Pragmatist.” He corrected primly. “You realize you can’t help your precious king if you’re in a dungeon, right?” The glare she shot at him was downright murderous, but she did take a moment to consider how it would look to the guards when they burst through that door. With a soft and somewhat frustrated sounding snarl, she slid off of the man and back down onto the floor. However, she wasn’t ready to admit surrender yet and leaned forward, glaring into the wide staring eyes of the patient.

“I will find out what I want to know.” She growled softly to him. “And you’re going to tell me. The longer I have to wait for my answer, the less happy I’m going to be with you.”

Moments later two guards burst through the door, swords drawn and ready for action, only to find two beastkin attending to a now awake patient. Merle calmly fluffed Palos’ pillow, a bright smile on her face as she turned to confront the two large and somewhat confused men.

“The patient is awake! I need you to get Princess Millerna.” She stated brightly, as if everything was right in the world. The older of the two guards swept the room with a cool appraising glance, taking a long moment to glare at Cassian, letting him know that his presence was both suspicious and not welcome at all in this room, let alone the palace itself.

Doing his best to remain as inconspicuous as possible, Cassian idly poked at a fern which was growing rather impressively beyond the bounds of its pot, refusing to meet the guard’s eyes, lest it be taken for a challenge. He’d played this game before and had no desire to endure another display of human dominance, especially in front of Merle.

Deciding that the one cat was properly cowed, the guard then glared down at the at the little orange ball of fluff who’d dared to just give him an order. She met his eyes with the confidence of one who was bosom buddies with a king, her tail flicking insolently back and forth, secure in her untouchable state.

Cassian watched them surreptitiously, noting how the guard’s hand clenched his sword several times and found himself torn between desperately wanting the man to slap the impertinent girl for daring to stand up to him, and being impressed at the fluffball’s fearlessness.

“Do I look like your personal messenger?” He grumbled, unimpressed at having had his rounds interrupted by a false alarm. Rather than be cowed, the little cat’s bright smile shifted into a cold imperious glare which was every bit as impressive as the guard’s as she radiated challenge with every bit of fur on her body.

“No, you look like a man who wants to keep his job. This is the Princesse’s personal patient and has vital information regarding the safety of two kingdoms. Of course, if you think that it’s too far beneath you to alert your future queen I’m sure she’ll understand.” Her smile showed a lot of teeth in it and there was nothing friendly about it in the least. Cassian watched as the guard glanced at the man on the bed, then his partner, then back at the smirking cat girl before amazingly, taking a step back and nodding his head.

“I’ll go tell her Majesty personally. Robard, guard the door, ensure no one comes in who isn’t authorized to be in here.” He snapped, forcing the younger man to jump to attention before both humans promptly left the room.

For a long moment, all Cassian could do was stare in shock, not quite believing what he’d just seen. Slowly, he turned to look at Merle who was grinning with all the smugness of victory, her tail lazily swaying back and forth behind her.

“What are you staring at Whiskers?” She snapped, her smile fading slightly. In his shock, Cassian could only blurt out the first words that came to mind.

“I find myself suddenly not doubting that you faced down two zaibach guymelef on your own... and won.” Later he would kick himself to admitting that out loud, but for the moment, there was no hiding the absolute awe in his voice. Never in his life had he seen humans leap to do the bidding of a beastkin without large sums of money being involved, but somehow, this little housecat had managed it.

“Yeah... well don’t you forget it.” Merle replied, raising her head just a little higher and taking a moment to lick the fur on the back of her hand, as if she hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. Rather than answer and add to her already overflowing pride, Cassian sneered slightly and turned away, flicking his tail insolently in her direction.

“Of course, bluffing a guard isn’t really that much of an achievement.” He finally stated, flexing his claws idly and allowing himself a faint smirk at her soft hiss of fury. “It’s hardly going to win you any battles in a war. Sure, you bluffed some enemy idiots who likely thought you were either some distraction or more likely, rabid. But that doesn’t make you a great warrior.”

“I’ve been in more battles than you Whiskers”

“As dead weight.”

“You know, I’m going to look forward to seeing you get your fluffy ass kicked once the fighting starts. In fact, I won’t have to wait long. Your precious little captain will likely skin you alive out of boredom long before you ever get the chance to even pick up a sword. Just remember, Zaibach lost the war, and only an idiot asks to be taught by the losers.”

“Oh really? Is that why King Fanel was training under Captain Albatou as well?” Allowing himself a victorious sneer, Cassian glanced over his shoulder at his verbal sparring partner and saw the door swing open once more. To his surprise, the princess herself swept into the room, her long gown swirling around her feet as she rushed over to the patient’s side, not even bothering with social pleasantries.

Cassian had caught glimpses of both princesses over the past month. It was unavoidable while living at the palace, but they’d been fleeting looks at best. Noble women were simply not encouraged to show any interest in the training of the knights, especially such a disreputable regiment as “The Mongrels”.

As “leftover” nobles, beastkin and commoners, they were hardly the heroes of legend, and more importantly, likely wouldn’t increase their social standing with marriage alliances. That left them with only a few servant girls to gawk at them as if they were stallions on display at a dockside auction.

It was hardly the sort of atmosphere the princesses would wish to have anything to do with and their chaperones seemed to heartily agree, taking great pains in steering the royals away from the training grounds, and Cassian himself in particular.

Except, here she was now without her small army of retainers forming a living human barrier between herself and the rest of the world. She moved with intense authority and the confidence of one who knew exactly what they were doing, leaving Cassian to stare at her in slack jawed awe. She was beautiful, with hair the colour of spun gold and eyes which shone like the finest of amethysts. Her skin was that flawless creamy rose of the astorian noble class and was offset by the smokey black corset and pale rose gown adorning her slender figure.

With professional movements, she quickly slipped on a set of those strange gloves and began to poke and prod at the man on the table, likely causing him some discomfort and confusion, though she took the time to explain her every action with warm and gentle tones. It sounded almost as if they were good friends, but to the best of his knowledge, the man was nothing more than a trumped up messenger, likely no better acquainted with the princess than he himself was.

“Close your mouth Whiskers and help me sit him up.” Merle shot at him, pulling Cassian out of his ruminations and snapping him back into reality. Favouring her with a quick glare, he stalked over to the bed and risked a somewhat nervous glance at the princess, unaware of if he should be following the proper protocols or not. Did one bow to the princess when tending to a patient?

“It’s good to see you awake again Palos.” Millerna smiled at her patient then held up a gloved hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “Your throat was badly injured and I wouldn’t advise trying to speak just yet. First, I would like to see if you are able to drink any fluids at all. Cassian is it?” She glanced over at the beastkin and smiled at him as if they had known each other for ages. “Would you fetch that glass of water from the table? And place the hollow reed into it that’s in the little wooden box? Thank you.”

In his shock at being directly addressed by royalty, Cassian utterly forgot to give any sort of attitude at being given servants work and quickly brought the glass and reed, holding them out to her with evident pride in the completion of his first successful quest.

With deft hands, she took them from him and he quickly busied himself with helping Merle sit the man up so that he could drink properly.

Understandably, the messenger looked more than a little panicked and confused by waking up to this strange set of affairs, but he obediently put the reed in his mouth and tried a small sip of the water. The first swallow was met with a wince of pain, but he gamely tried again and this one seemed to go down better judging by the way his features seemed to relax.

“Don’t drink too much.” She cautioned him gently, taking the glass away. “You haven’t had solid food in nearly a month.” She gestured towards the strange tubes going into the man’s arms which were attached to bags hanging overhead. “We’ve been supplying you with nutrients, but your stomach has shrunk and your strength is likely a shadow of what it once was.” Despite the harshness of the news, the princess still managed to make it sound almost positive and Palos nodded his head after a moment. His pale grey gaze seemed sharper than before, but the catkin was positive that most of this was just going right over the human’s head.

Cassian had no idea how those bags of fluid were keeping the patient alive, but it looked like Zaibach technology or some sort. He’d have to remember to ask Regis about it whenever he came back from his vacation with Lord Schezar or whatever it was they were doing. To him, it just looked like water being slowly poured into the man. Then again, Zaibach technology was as freaky as it was weird, so who knew what exactly it did at the best of times.

“We’ll start you on liquid food first then gradually introduce solids, but your appetite won’t be what it once was, so don’t push yourself.” The princess continued. As she spoke, she gently reached out and took the man’s hand in hers. “I would like you to try to squeeze my hand.” She instructed and the two catkin watched the man’s feeble attempt and obvious worry.

“The weakness is expected. Your strength will grow in time, but I want you to work on a few simple exercises for your body to get everything started again.”

Cassian had never seen anyone as patient and gentle as this royal woman. He watched in awe as she explained the simple movements she wanted the man to make. They were no different then the games one might give a newborn to help develop their muscles and distantly, he figured that there likely wasn’t much difference between the two. The man’s muscles had likely utterly atrophied from lack of use over the month, leaving him weak and useless.

“I’m also going to give you a writing slate to use for communication.” She continued with a smile, as if being rendered mute was little more than an inconvenience. “Don’t worry if your writing is rudimentary at first. Dexterity will return in time, but it will be excellent exercise for you and will help you in making your needs known. Your family has also agreed to hire a body servant for you once you awoke. They will stay at your side until you are well enough to tend to yourself. I’ll of course notify Lord Varinth immediately that you’re awake. Merle, if you and Cassian could continue to care for Palos until his servant arrives, it would be deeply appreciated.”

Before he realized what he’d done, Cassian found himself nodding his head, condemning himself to all manner of vile duties during what precious little spare time he had. Still, he couldn’t quite find it within himself to be resentful, not when the princess flashed him that wide grateful smile.

He really hated life right now.

 

 

 

“Sit young one. We have much to discuss.” Dark eyes watched him from beneath heavy brows and the dark wings shifted, created patterns of shadow across the walls as they drank in the mid-morning light.

“Momma Fortuna.” Unlike the previous time he’d greeted her, there was a cold edge to his voice and he watched her warily, measuring the distance between them as if expecting some sort of attack. “How did you get in here?”

His question earned him a snort of contempt as the old draconian sat on the bed, her large and ragged wings drawing in slightly with a barely audible creak.

“You and that rude little husband of yours dragged a leviship across the length and breadth of a country in a matter of minutes but you’re wondering how I got into a locked room?” She shorted inelegantly. “And here I was thinking that you were the smarter of the pair. It seems that I was mistaken.”

Normally Van would have taken some level of satisfaction in being called the smarter of the duo, but one word seemed to bounce around in his head like an angry wasp in a jar and he actually took a step back as his mind struggled to digest what he’d just heard.

“Back up there a minute.” Van held up his hand. Maybe Dilandau was right and this woman was simply a mad thing, spouting out nonsense. “What did you just call him?” There was no way he’d heard that right. Fate simply couldn’t be that cruel and sadistic to him. There were rules right? Limits on how badly he could be messed with?

Narrowing her eyes, Momma Fortuna leaned forward, wings fanning the air gently for balance while shedding a few ragged and mouldering feathers in the process.

“Your husband. That is the correct term used by the _human_ half of your blood is it not?” She actually made the word human sound distasteful, as if simply saying it fouled her tongue.

“We’re not married!” He protested perhaps a bit too loudly. “We’re only.... er... involved.” Heat suffused his cheeks and he knew from experience that they were likely a brilliant crimson. Rather than apologize for her gross assumption, the woman simply snorted again and pointed at Van’s chest, as if it held all of the answers in the world.

“That’s his feather hanging from your neck is it not?” Tanned fingers immediately closed around the softly glowing pinion protectively and he drew strength in it’s gentle warmth as he cupped it against his heart. As before, he could almost feel it pulse against his skin, as if it was Dilandau himself pressed against his flesh.

Taking his lack of answer as an affirmative, the old woman smirked widely.

“And you gave him one of yours? One of you made a promise to begin a new life together and the other accepted it?” Opening his mouth to deny her words, Van remembered that moment in the lab deep beneath the castle when he’d held out the shining feather to a hurt and scared Dilandau, smiling at the albino guilelessly and promising a new beginning between them. He could perfectly recall the guarded wariness in those crimson eyes reminding him of a feral animal expecting an attack from an outstretched hand. Then, slowly, something had glimmered in the depths of those strange alien eyes, something new. It had been a faint spark of hope, of trust, and a pale hand had slowly reached out to take the feather from him before holding it to his own heart, much as Van now did with his.

“That’s not a marriage.” He argued. “Marriage involves a big ceremony, a priest... a contract!”

“Hmph, how _human_. No young one, you gave the other a piece of yourselves to carry and a promise to create a new life together, your destinies entwined.”

“But... but I didn’t even like him when I did that! I was just trying to keep us from trying to kill each other!”

“Then I would call it a rousing success.” Momma chuckled, radiating amusement out of her every pore. “However it’s not me you need to convince. It’s yourselves.” No this wasn’t happening! It couldn’t be happening! Sure, he liked Dilandau a lot... and yeah, he could admit that he even loved the psychotic bastard, at least when he wasn’t acting like a crazd blood thirsty monster, but marriage? He was too young for that! Too inexperienced!

“Fine! I’m not married to Dilandau fucking Albatou!” He wanted to rip the damn feather from his neck and throw it to the ground as proof that this was nothing but a farce, but even as his fingers tightened around the silken plume, he found that he couldn’t do it. It felt so warm against his fingers, like a living thing and just holding it made him feel stronger, less alone. As much as it galled him, he could feel himself smiling gently as it pulsed against his heart, beating in perfect synchronicity.

“It seems young one, that you are.” Well damn... as if things weren’t awkward and complicated enough in his life. Rather than argue with her in a likely pointless fashion, he instead took a moment to think about what she’d said and how he truly felt about it. Closing his eyes, he pictured the fierce albino warrior. That fiery temper which never truly bowed no matter how badly fate moved against him. That unbending protective streak which Dilandau extended so readily to those who he shared his life with. Sure, he’d explain it away as saying that they were his, quoting duty and ego to an equal degree, but there was no doubt that he’d risk everything for those who’d sworn themselves to him.

Mostly though, he pictured the way Dilandau’s eyes shone when he looked at Van. There was so much fire in their depths, so much passion. The albino never held back when it came to Van, for better or worse, he never left any doubt as ot his intentions. More impressively was the amount of trust he’d given his former enemy. Giving Van his sword, putting his life in the king’s hands... It made him smile even as it caused a flock of crazed butterflies to swarm through his stomach.

It didn’t take long to not only realize, but feel utterly elated that there was actual commitment between them, something lasting and sincere rather than the simple joining of two eager bodies. Of course, that in no way lessened the problems facing them and this union. How was this going to go down with his council back in Fanelia... or worse... with Allen? Even Hitomi for all her talk of love and forgiveness clearly was uncomfortable with their relationship. Others were likely going to take it with far less grace than she had.

He was a dead man.

Still, despite his imminent demise, Van found himself smiling a little wider as he held the feather against his heart, feeling as if Dilandau was there with him in this room, ready to pull him into his warm embrace at any moment and say something utterly snide and inappropriate.

“I’m NOT going to be the one to tell him that he’s the Queen of Fanelia.” He grumbled softly to himself, just imagining how well that would go down. Though honestly, it might be worth it just to see his face. So long as he had a proper escape strategy already in place... and was safely ensconced in Escaflowne.

“Ah, this would have been perfect had that fool not mucked about. Humans, they’ll never understand that Fate is not a toy for them to play with. They are little better than toddlers playing with bombs. The two of you are no better, so don’t you start smirking as if you were somehow superior to those foolish sorcerers.” Momma snapped before Van could even give voice to his thoughts. “Honestly, it’s a miracle that the two of you haven’t unmade reality itself with your antics.”

At her words, Van suddenly felt more than a little numb and he stared at her in shock, trying to absorb the full gravity of her words.

“Unmake... reality?” Their sex really was putting Gaea in danger?

“Three Fate Storms in less than a week! What were you two thinking? The first was perfectly understandable of course. Forcing the two of you to awaken in such a manner, that fool forcing the power of Atlantis through you. Had you not been a bonded pair, the shock alone would have torn you both apart, not to mention a good chunk of Basram itself.

“Ah, but no, your souls synchronized perfectly with each other. You have no idea how rare that is young one. Back in the days of the glory of Atlantis, you would have been without peer despite your tainted breeding. Some would even say that you were too perfect a match and in their arrogance fought to keep you apart.

“Arrogant blind fools. They would have struggled to control the two of you, mated you off to others less well matched, stunted the potential destinies within you.” She cackled in amusement though Van had no idea what was so funny. He felt like he was going to be sick and sat down heavily on a stool by the bed, waiting for the world to start making sense again.

“So much potential, so much effort and planning. Wasted because of human ego...”

“What are you talking about? Speak plainly old woman!” Van snapped. There was only so much strangeness he could handle over the course of a day, and he’d already gone well beyond that. What had started off as a beautiful morning had quickly become an absolute nightmare and he was sick of choking it down. Right now, Dilandau was in some isolated cell, possibly losing his mind or being tortured by guards wanting revenge, and here he was, sitting here listening to an obviously senile old woman babble about things that weren’t making sense.

“Show respect for your elders youngling.” Those ragged wings snapped out, suddenly more than a little ominous in appearance as the room darkened considerably and gained a strange damp chill to it. “You claim to share half a soul with my world, yet you know nothing. Do not fall to the arrogance of your human half.”

“Then explain it to me!” Van shot back heatedly, refusing to back down. “You say that Dilandau and I have nearly destroyed reality, but you haven’t said how. All you’re doing is dangling half answers in front of me without any explanation behind them. I don’t even know who you are, but you’re expecting me to trust your word as unquestioned truth? Maybe Dilandau was right and you’re nothing but a fraud in a soup tent.”

“The opinions of that little abomination mean nothing to me.” The old woman stood up with impressive alacrity. “I’ve done so much for him, twisted the world for his benefit, and what do I receive in return? Contempt. Arrogance. They made him too perfectly. He’s just as bad as the others, long may their bones burn.” Leaning forward suddenly, Van found her face shoved practically into his, but he refused to step back, holding her dark gaze with his own.

Those depthless eyes of hers studied his, searching into his soul for something only she could see. Van could almost feel the weight of her personality press against himself, seeking to shove him back and cow him, but he as made of sterner stuff than that and he refused to so much as flinch.

“Hmph, you... you there is hope for.” She finally admitted, leaning back just enough to give him space to breathe. “Varie chose well when she created her children. Too well in some regards.”

“Tell me how you know my mother!” Van demanded, reaching out a hand to grab onto the old woman’s arms, but the dark look she shot him froze him in his tracks.

“I have seen worlds die in fire as my brothers and sisters screamed their last breaths. I’ve watched the birth of other worlds rising from the ashes of the old and seen the childlike races crawl from the muck of creation. Do not think for a moment that the mewling of an irate youngling barely fledged is going to intimidate me in the least.” She snapped at him in warning. “I will tell you what I wish, when I wish and you will be thankful for each word which passes my lips, for without them, you have nothing but the dangers of your own self discovery. So far, your luck has held, but it will not always be so. The gamble is yours young one. Answers in exchange for civility, or a game of chance with the lives of every living creature in creation.”

Realizing that there was little he could do, Van bit his tongue and sat back down on the stool, though he did indulge in the childish act of crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her balefully. That lasted for nearly a minute, during which she did nothing but stare at him expectantly, as if she had all the time in the world... which, from the sounds of it, she likely did.

Another thirty seconds of glaring made it clear that he was accomplishing nothing more than acting like Dilandau, getting all upset and unreasonable the instant things didn’t go his way. He could almost picture Folken watching him, a smile of faint amusement twisting his lips as he patiently waited for the childish bout of temper to wear away, allowing reason to flow once more.

Taking a deep breath, Van closed his eyes and forced himself to be calm and civil. This woman was not the enemy, she had in fact done nothing but aid them without demanding anything in return other than hint at answers they so desperately needed. Alienating her accomplished nothing but weaken them and his ego certainly wasn’t worth that price.

“You have my apologies Momma.” He finally said in a much calmer voice than before. To his surprise, he found that he actually meant the words, and before he could think about it too much, he stood up and walked over to one of the low tables in the room and picked up a pot of tea which was warming over a small candle. Pouring two cups of the fragrant broth, he handed one to her.

Smiling wide enough to allow Van to see the coloured beads of glass embedded in her teeth, she took the cup graciously and raised it to her lips, taking a moment to inhale the sweet almost floral scent.

“Better young one.” She murmured gently, her entire demeanour seeming to change, becoming more welcoming and kindly. “Much better.”

Resisting the urge to immediately begin questioning her, Van took a small sip of his tea, wincing as it burned the tip of his tongue. Still, it did smell lovely. He could make out the hint of rose hips and orange, bu the other ingredients were foreign to him.

The two drank in companionable silence for several minutes and to his surprise, Van found himself actually relaxing with the sheer domesticity of the scene. It almost reminded him of sitting with his mother all those years ago, watching her sip tea as she sat in the garden, watching the sun rise over the edges of the surrounding cliffs.

“Your mother was a strong woman.” Momma finally said, her voice warm and filled with the weight of memory. “Gentle yet driven. When she set her mind to something, there was no stopping that girl and she was willing to defy all convention for what she believed was right.” The old woman’s face became a mask of fond sorrow, leaving no doubt in Van’s mind that she had indeed known his mother well.

Sitting on the edge of his seat, Van listened intently, savouring every word and using them to add to the dimming memories he had of the most beautiful woman in his world. It was torture to stay silent and let the old woman speak at her own pace, but she’d made herself clear and he didn’t want to risk interrupting her.

“She was born of the House of Soras, a most noble and powerful lineage. Originally one of the Great Seven houses, they were the only one to remain after the Cataclysm. Their numbers dwindled to almost nothing, their magics fading to a mere shadow of what they once had been. Varie was the last of the once glorious line, the end of our race as we knew it. After struggling so long cut off from all that they were, the last of the Children of Atlantis bowed their heads and gave in to despair, for they had read the rivers of Fate and had seen nothing but darkness.

“Varie, though she lacked the great powers of her ancestors, was adept at reading the currents and ripples of Fate, and she refused to accept the end of all. No matter how often she was told to turn away, to accept the inevitable, she watched and she studied. Some called her mad, others called her driven, but none believed her when she said that she’d seen a way, a glimmer however faint within the currents which hinted that possibly, just possibly, there was the slightest hint of something more.

“Never had I witnessed such fierce passion and dedication. Across the vast gulf of the worlds and the reaches of time, I heard her pleas. She knew and accepted the risks, the price was paid and I opened the river of Fate for her to walk through it’s currents to this world.

“Still, she was not ready for the harsh realities of this world, nor for the humans who walked upon it, but never once did she flinch. Instead, she embraced the destiny she’d seen, finding that tiny spark of hope and fanning it into the blaze which would become the next generation.

“And oh what a generation it was. Her first son was truly a scion of her house. Had his blood been pure, he might have rivalled the Atlanteans of old and bent the very tides of Fate to his will. Still, he was a sight to behold and his destiny, ahhh it shone.” She sighed in rapture, her eyes drifting closed, her tea forgotten in her tale. “You, her second son favoured the father. So much so that at first I thought that there was little more than a drop or two of atlantean blood in your veins, drowned by your human half and all but snuffed out. Called to battle and swords like some human barbarian, you were like a changeling, left in place of a true child of your house. Even your destiny was obscured from view, shadowed by a dragon.

“Heh. Here I accuse the others of hubris, when I was just as guilty. I had been without hope, dwelling in darkness for so long that I failed to recognize the signs when I saw them. Instead, I focused on your brother. Him I watched and guided from the shadows. His fate I carefully plucked, placing him where he needed to be, shaping his destiny so that the tiny spark Varie had seen became reality, only to have it snatched away moments before it was within my grasp.

“Oh how I raged. In my despair and loss of faith, I knew nothing but madness until an arrogant young captain walked through my tent and demanded his fortune be read. In my foolish despair, I hadn’t even recognized him at first. It was the eyes which reminded me, red as molten rubies. A hallmark of House Soras, those red eyes. Varie’s had been the colour of fine wine, while your brothers were the colour of red ochre. Your own are mahogany, easily mistaken for brown if one were expecting human eyes.” She smiled at him almost fondly but Van didn’t notice, he was too busy trying to remember his mother in details. Had her eyes been wine red? After ten long years, it was so hard to tell, and there were no royal portraits to help him remember. His parents had always thought that sitting there for a portrait was a pointless vanity. they’d thought they’d be together forever... or perhaps only his father had thought that. Had his mother known that her time was short? Had she not wanted to have the face of her love watching her, trapped forever in pigments rather than the flesh she grieved for?

“Looking back at those cards, it was all spelled out for me, a destiny I’d thought was gone forever. By then, so much time had been lost and the currents ran wild, twisted out of shape by sorcerous magic and human ignorance. To think of how close you both came to finding your ends on the blades of the other...” A look of profound relief suffused her face and she took another small sip of her tea. Van had long forgotten about his, staring at her with unblinking attentiveness, drinking in every bit of information he could, recognizing it all for the treasure it was.

“I should have known better than to doubt a Soras. Especially a small flock of them. Oh the tangles your lineage makes when they play with fate. By the time I’d unravelled the mess your brother had made in his attempt to murder his progeny, the war was over. I found myself left with but a half of a pair and a destiny which demanded fruition.

“Still, patience has it’s virtues, and I am nothing if not patient, and now you shine. Oh yes young on, you shine so brilliantly that I can’t help but feel that in the end, it was all worth it. Even if this is but the final swan song of our race, the last flare of the light which once shone so brilliantly, just seeing that ancient power reborn warms my soul.”

“But... why should it be the end?” Van finally found his voice. “Why should things stop here?”

“Ah dear boy, your ignorance is both refreshing yet utterly vexing.” She smiled slightly at him and Van had the distinct impression that he might just get patted on the head like a small child. “Two males cannot breed the next generation youngling. The abomination, created from you brother’s flesh and blood was to be female. She was to bear his children and bring forth a new age with her womb. I had not taken into account the thought that the human sorcerers might have... other designs.

“He’s perfect in every way. Pure Atlantean, every drop of human taint scrubbed away ruthlessly, giving way to such vast potential that it’s staggering.” Her smile faded abruptly, becoming something dark, ancient and dangerous. “I could tolerate them twisting the child into a warrior despite the call of his blood. I can ignore their control games, seeking to ensure that he never understood his potential or heritage, but to lock away the future of Atlantis! To cut short the destiny which so much had been sacrificed to create... It’s inexcusable.”

Van was pretty sure he was going to choke on his tea at this latest revelation. Dilandau really wasn’t supposed to exist? He was supposed to have stayed Celena and... bred with either him or his brother? That was beyond twisted on so many levels that he really wasn’t sure where to start. Was it all just a ploy then? Was what he felt for Dilandau real or just part of this aborted plan put in motion years ago to make little draconians? How many of his own choices were of his own free will and how many because of this manipulation? Was anything he saw or thought real?

“Ah, NOW you decide to start actually thinking.” Momma grumbled. “Stop fretting young one. Your destiny was determined long before you were even conceived. Your thoughts, your actions, your reactions, they are all as they would have been without interference. The two of you were destined to join your fates. The interference was to pull you apart, yet you both overcame that despite the odds stacked against you. It’s merely a pity that it will all be for naught.”

“We could still have children.” Van protested, shocking himself by even saying such a thing. “Just... not with each other.” Gods of Gaea, his face had to be beet red just for suggesting such a thing. At this point, he really should just crawl under the bed and pretend to not exist.

“Your children with a human woman would be too weak, their blood too diluted to be of use and those fools with their tinkering and tortures have ensured that the Abomination is as barren as a wasteland. He will sire no children from any woman, I can see that well enough. Should he ever regain his human identity, even if she could conceive, which is doubtful, they would be pure human. No young one. It was the two of you combined, a perfect mated pair which was to be our salvation.”

“Do you have to call him that? Abomination? He’s a person and deserves some level of respect.”

“Hmph, to receive respect he must first give it. I will call the arrogant little beast what I damn well want. Atlantean he may be, but created through the foulest of magics and twisted fates. He is a creature who should never have existed yet despite all the laws of reality does. In our greatest moments of blind arrogance, not even we sought to create such a being.”

“But you just said that you’d planned for his birth, that you’d manipulated events to bring it about... Dilandau never would have been made if Zaibach hadn’t found an injured draconian.” Van’s eyes narrowed and his hands tightened around his teacup, threatening to shatter the fine porcelain. “Did you make Folken lose to that dragon? Did you force him into Zaibach?” Did you take my family away from me? The last question was unvoiced but hung heavily in the air between them.

Momma sighed softly and set her tea cup down on the table, a faint and sad smile tugging at her old and wrinkled lips.

“Does the calamity which befell your family rest on my shoulders you mean to ask? Yes and no young one. Did I tug the flow of fate in that direction? Yes, I did, but I was not alone. Your dear mother cast her net as I did, tugging at the strands, guiding his hand, his sword, the dragon and the man who found him. She knew his fate when he left that day on his sacred hunt. But as all Atlanteans, she did not look deep enough into the current. To her, he was setting out to embrace his true destiny and in doing so, would create a child of his flesh, the bringer of a new age of Atlantis.” The old woman cackled in dark amusement, her tooth beads glimmering brightly despite the ominous tons of her words.

“Foolish lovely Varie. She saw true, but oh how the path stung her to her very soul.”

“You tricked my mother.” Van’s voice was deadpan, his tone growing cold once more.

“She tricked herself.” Momma shot back sharply. “She saw what she wanted to see young one. The fault lies with her far more than myself. In the end, a new child was born, one capable of achieving all that was lost, save for the lack of a single organ. So the joke turned back upon myself and Varie’s curse struck us both.” Clawed fingers gently cupped Van’s jaw as she tilted his head up to look her in the eyes and Van wasn’t quite sure when she’d moved let alone reached out to touch him, but he couldn’t pull away. His muscles were stone, bound by her formidable will and he felt the chill of her skin leeching into him.

“Listen well young one. Despite having made this world, we are not of it. Each of us is an aberration to the flow of Gaea’s fate. As such, for all of our power, each of us are cursed beings. It is the price we pay and there is no avoiding it. Your mother thought she understood this, but in the end she was unable to shoulder its burden. Your brother chose to sacrifice himself in order to overcome his. I will watch you closely to see how you deal with yours.”

“And what is my curse” He found himself asking, his blood running cold in his veins. “Tell me so that I can avoid it.”

“Ah my sweet young one.” Momma chuckled fondly at him as she released his jaw and gently patted him on the head. “There is no avoiding it. It is in your blood and your bones. One cannot destroy a world and not face the consequences of one’s actions.”

“I wasn’t there! I didn’t destroy Atlantis!” Van shot back, even as memories of searing flames and shattering buildings flooded his mind. That had been a vision, a dream from those disgusting experiments, nothing more! He hadn’t been there, hadn’t heard his people dying, hadn’t tasted their ashes on the wind.

“Were you not?” The old woman sounded even more amused by his denial. “And here I so distinctly remembered seeing two younglings fighting. One light, one dark, different sides of the same perfect coin yet both so shrouded in pain and rage that they could not see themselves for what they were. Ah, they were beautiful in their struggles, shattering realities around them as if they were glass.”

“You... you were there... you saw Atlantis fall.”

“I was young one, and it burned my wings black. Cursing me to walk the worlds touched by our magic until the suns burn out in the heavens. You? It opened up the pathway to your potential. No longer does the dragon shroud you in its shadow. Now you burn just as brightly as it does. Do not forget however that the brighter the light, the darker the shadow cast.” As she spoke, her wings began to dissolve away into ash, blowing away on an unfelt wind. Then, as Van watched, the rest of her body crumbled, swirling about the room for a moment before slipping out through the slit windows and vanishing.

“Wait!” Van yelled, reaching out to grab onto the flakes of ash, only to have them swirl about his fingers, evading capture. “I have more questions! What is my curse! How can we stop twisting fate!? Is my mother even still alive!?” Lunging at the narrow window, he clawed at the air, but his efforts were useless. It was as if she’d never even been there. The only evidence of her presence was the second cup of tea, drained of its contents sitting on the table, mocking him with more questions than he had answers for.

 

 

This was obviously all Van’s fault. Before having his fate bound to the Fanelian king’s, Dilandau had never been captured by the enemy and held in a cell like some lowbrow criminal. Now, here he was... again. Was this a hero thing? Because if it was, he was going to have to make a point of illustrating that he was most definitely NOT one of those altruistic fools.

Rubbing his sore stomach, he glanced down at the darkening flesh of his abdomen, pressing lightly to check and ensure that it was simply bruising rather than internal bleeding. Running his tongue over his lips, he felt where they’d been split and idly bit down on the wound, savouring the sharp heat of the pain.

Pathetic. Was that what they considered to be torture? A few punches and kicks? Sweet fate, he did worse to his Dragonslayers on a daily basis and he _liked_ them. Here he’d been expecting something along the line of burning bamboo shoots under his fingernails or a bucket full of rats placed against his stomach. Something fun that you could sit back later and reminisce about with your friends over drinks. Instead, it was this spineless half-assed attempt to put him in his place. It was actually rather insulting now that he thought about it. Did they think that he was weak? That he couldn’t handle a little pain?

His fingers pressed against the bruises on his belly, digging into the tender flesh. They’d dared to lay hands on him and hadn’t even made it worth the effort of keeping his pride at bay. Yes... it was decided that he was insulted.

Granted, at least the pain, as pathetic as it was helped keep his mind off of how quiet it was down here... how dark and empty. A shudder ran through his body as he pressed his fingers a little harder against his wounds. Maybe he should yell a little, make a fuss to bring the guards back?

They wouldn’t be happy to see that he’d freed himself from where they’d left him hanging by his manacles. The hook they’d looped the chain around had been utterly pointless really. Even as a child he would have been able to climb up the chains and twist himself free with little effort. As an adult, it was sadly laughable. Honestly, he was almost annoyed that Miguel had actually remained imprisoned here for more than a few minutes. He should have been freed and out the door before the next change in guard instead of sitting there waiting for a rescue which would lead to his death.

Blinking eyes which suddenly stung a little too much, Dilandau leaned against the rough walls, feeling the sharp stones bite into the bones of his wings. Sitting likely would have been preferable, but he could feel the rough misshapen stones beneath his feet and knew that there was no way his already aching ass was going to tolerate that level of abuse.

A slight smile tugged at his lips as he focused on the dull ache deep inside himself, remembering the feel of Van filling him, the slick rush of his hot seed and that utterly perfect moment when nothing had existed beyond the union of their bodies. He’d never expected Van to be so enthusiastic a lover, not to mention such a competent one.

Reaching up, he gently cupped the feather hanging from the chain around his neck and closed his eyes. He could feel Van’s heart beating against his chest, the almost solid presence of the dark king washed over him so powerfully that he half expected to feel those strong arms pull him close.

Van would get him out of this mess. He had to believe in him no matter how contrary to his nature it was. Of course, Miguel had once sat here, trusting in Dilandau to get him out, believing that his leader would come through in the end, and look how well that had turned out.

Was he getting soft? Was he forgetting who he was? No... no that wasn’t it. He was still Dilandau, still ready to tear his way through this pathetic swampy bug infested kingdom if they so much as looked at him the wrong way. Except, his new bruises said otherwise.

He’d given up his sword, let himself be manhandled, insulted and shoved into a deep dark hole with little more than a grumble because of that damn king. Glaring down at the manacles still binding his wrists, he felt his lips twist in disgust as he released the feather.

No sooner had it fallen from his grip than the walls seemed to close in on him, the darkness grew more impenetrable and the silence heavier. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that little cell around him with the tiny square of light. Waiting for endless hours for someone to come for him, not caring if they were going to hurt him or simply use his body, so long as there was something, some contact to make him real.

A shudder ran through his body as he sank to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and trembling despite himself. The pain of the stone floor against his tender buttocks helped to ground him, remind him that he existed.

“We are defined through pain and suffering.” He murmured the old lesson learned so long ago at the hands of his Masters. “Without pain, there is no pleasure, without pain, there is no growth. Through pain I am defined, through my suffering I am made whole. My will and my body are one, born to serve the will of the Empire.”

It had been some time since he’d felt the need to say those phrases out loud. They’d been etched into his very bones for years. At least for once, there were happy memories associated with this particular discomfort. Warm hands, soft smiles, beautiful shining eyes which urged him to trust despite what his instincts might demand. Well damn, maybe he was getting soft.

“You’d better make this up to me Van.” He whispered to the darkness, his fingers reaching up to steal another fleeting touch of the feather. Even the lightest press of his fingers seemed to drive the darkness back a little, made him feel a little less alone. “If you don’t, I swear I’m going to burn Fanelia a second time.” Yeah, that made him feel a little better, but it still did little to soothe his injured pride.

“Ugh, Empty Fate, is there nowhere comfortable to fucking sit?!” He snarled, shifting several times before letting his head loll back, hitting the hard stone wall with enough impact to give him a warning headache. “I fucking hate being a prisoner!”

“I have to admit sir, they haven’t done much with the place since I’ve been here.” A handsome figure slowly materialized into sight, sitting at his side. Familiar black leathers with deep blue armour provided a welcome view and Dilandau couldn’t help but smile warmly at Miguel. “I’m sort of disappointed actually. I thought you guys would have at least made a point of tearing this place to dust in my name.”

“Yeah... we were a little busy at the time with all the slaughter.” Dilandau allowed himself a slight chuckle and lightly swatted his old lover, ignoring how his hand passed through translucent flesh without any resistance save for a flash of biting cold. “Besides, a castle fell on it. It would have taken us forever to dig it all out just to smash it. I figured that hunting down every single bipedal rodent in the city and carving them up into paste was a much better way to honour you.”

“Looks like you missed a few sir.”

“Fuck you Lavariel, We devastated this country for you. Admit it, you were impressed.”

“With you sir? Always.” The dragonslayer favoured his captain with a fond smile before falling into pensive silence, his pale grey eyes studying his leader, noting the faint trembling to his hands and how he clutched at the shining feather as if it was a lifeline. Rage burned in the depths of those pale eyes for the briefest of moments as the spectre saw how the upstart was giving comfort where he could not, but it was a fleeting emotion better suited for the living than the dead. So long as his love, his glorious and great leader was safe, that was all that mattered in the end.

“I really should kill them just on general principle you know, for keeping one of my men in such barbaric conditions. Do you see that?” He pointed towards a foul smelling squat bucket which swarmed with flies and quite obviously had but on purpose. “It’s a bucket to shit in! Rampant disease will kill me long before these bald morons do.” He shook his head in utter disgust, wishing he could bring himself to touch the bucket long enough to kick it through the bars so it would stop offending his sensibilities. “Honestly, you were here for days. You had to be in agony.” Dilandau murmured gently, twirling the feather between his fingers as he shifted, noting how the floor seemed to find new bruises to jab. Ugh, next time he wasn’t going to have spectacularly rough sex just before being captured. Or better yet, next time Van was going to be the one on the bottom and then stuck in a damn cell. Yeah, that would be both fun AND satisfying.

“I had my armour to protect me sir. You’re just wearing a skirt.”

“Kilt.” Dilandau corrected with just a hint of warning to his voice. “I’m wearing a wolfkin kilt.” Yeah, there is was, the faintest hint of a smile from that smarmy bastard.

“Of course sir.” Death really was helping his men discover their spines and Dilandau wasn’t sure if he entirely approved of this new change. “Thought it does rather strongly resemble a skirt.” Nope, he didn’t approve at all.

“Miguel, I’m not exactly in the best of moods at this moment. Do you really think that it’s safe, even for a dead man to mock me?”

“Apologies sir.” The dragonslayer sighed softly, drawing his knees up to his chest, mimicking Dilandau’s pose subconsciously. “I don’t like seeing you like this. You should let me kill them for daring to put you in chains.” The raw need for vengeance against the living sparked in the spectre’s eyes for a moment and Dilandau felt the air in the dungeon chill. Frost actually formed where Miguel’s body touched the wall, though it faded quickly once the albino shook his head. “At least let me tear the souls out of those who laid their hands on you. You’re Dilandau Albatou, none should dare touch you without your permission.”

Oh it was tempting, far more so than he really wanted to admit out loud. After all, hadn’t he just finished pondering how lovely it would feel to crush the windpipe of on of the guards in his bare hand? Just one guard... maybe two to ease his bruised ego. It would be fun!

“No.” He ground out the words, his hands closing into fists. “As much as it would be deeply satisfying, we’re going to have to show some restraint.”

“Apologies sir... I wasn’t aware that you knew that word. Gatti will be so impressed.”

“If you doubt for even a moment that I will not become sufficiently motivated to find a way to bridge our realities and beat the ever loving shit out of you for being insubordinate, then by all means, continue to mock me Lieutenant.”

“Apologies sir.” Miguel sighed softly. “I just...”

“I know.” Dilandau replied just as gently, favouring his old lover with a faint smile. “I really do, but right now I have to behave no matter how much I want to see them all bleed.” His fingers once again found their way to the feather around his neck and stroked it tenderly, imagining that he was feeling Van’s wings beneath his hands. “Van’s up there right now trying to fight a war of words, and that’s not exactly something he’s all that good at. Hero or not, if I start murdering indiscriminately, it will only make things harder for him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dilandau watched how Miguel’s face darkened, his pale eyes fixed on the feather, smouldering with hatred and jealousy. Seeing that look warmed the captain deep inside. He’d always taken great amusement out of playing one lover against another, stoking the fires of their jealousy and using it to sharpen their competitive edges. It added a certain element of spice and danger to his relationships and it was a habit he wasn’t overly inclined to stop, even if one of his suitors happened to be dead.

Rather than rant and rave, Miguel instead thought for a long moment, weighing his words carefully. He’d long ago grown used to the albino’s games and had learned to play along no matter how much he’d loathed them. Right now, he knew that they were giving the living youth a small measure of comfort, and that was more precious than anything he could possibly say or do.

“If he’s so inept politically, then why are you taking this risk sir?” He finally asked, still unable to pull his attention away from that shining feather and all that it represented. “You could end up in an even worse situation than before.” “There is that risk.” Dilandau admitted after a moment. “But something bigger than us is at play here.” He mused out loud. “Van and I spent nearly two years doing our best to murder each other by any means possible.” Absently, he reached up with a hand and rubbed his scarred cheek. “Even then, the strangest things always happened when I was around him. The improbable became common place for us, the impossible fully within our reach. The rules of reality seemed to be suspended just for us and I never understood why.”

“I thought a lot of that was Folken’s doing sir.”

“Yes, but Folken isn’t here now is he?” As he spoke, Dilandau’s eyes never left the feather as it continued to twirl between his fingers. “I still don’t know why I was driven to track him down and save his life from those mercenaries. It’s not like I even gave it a second thought. I knew he was there and I rescued him, then I led him back to the Crusade as if I was some ally of his.

“Even back in the palace, I trusted him when he spoke to me... when he looked at me as a person. Not a tool, not a weapon or a monster, but as someone worth knowing. You guys were the only one’s who’d ever looked at me like that before. I could tell myself that it was just a rebound, that I just wanted to assure myself that I was still desirable after Gaddes kicked me aside, but there was more to it.

“I like fighting by his side, I feel comforted by his presence and when we touch... there’s literal sparks Miguel. Sweet Fate, when we fuck we literally move mountains, or at least leviships.” Closing his eyes, he brushed the tip of the feather against his lips, feeling the tingle of energy against his skin and shivering in pleasure.

“I want to trust him. I want to see what he can do if left to his devices.” Opening his eyes, he flashed Miguel a hint of a wicked smile. “Maybe I’m just taking his measure as a man and a king.”

“And if he fails and they kill you? As I said, this isn’t Folken we’re talking about and from what I’ve seen, Van Fanel isn’t exactly a skilled diplomat. He’d likely lose a verbal sparring match with Shesta.”

“Folken chose to betray us and have you murdered. I’ll take Van over that bastard any day.”

“You know what I mean sir. These people hate you, and with good reason. What if they decide to just have you killed?”

“They won’t kill me.” Dilandau replied softly, confidence lending his words weight. Turning his attention away from the feather, he smiled at the dragonslayer. “You’ll stop them before it comes to that. But yeah, they’ll likely beat me up a bit and make my life uncomfortable, but really, these guys are rank amateurs when compared to the Madoushi. I can handle anything they do to me. Hells, I’ll likely sleep through it.”

“Sir, I mean it... this isn’t a good situation.”

“I know.” It wasn’t fun to admit, in fact, he rather loathed having to accept his current reality. It seemed that fate was rather determined to just kick him in the nuts over and over again lately. Slender fingers clenched a little more tightly around the feather as he pressed it once again to his chest and his shivering grew a tad more obvious to the sharp eyes of the dragonslayer.

“They need me alive to keep Van under their thumb.” He continued, pretending that he didn’t hear the slight waver to his voice. “I don’t need to know their stupid language to see that the Regent and that Basrami bastard are working together. I bet that they have more than a few secret agreements worked out in preparation for the war. Freid has likely promised to stay either neutral or quietly support them when they begin to advance. If they control Fanelia’s king, they’ve already got half of Gaea in their pocket without having to raise a hand in effort.”

“Astoria will notice.”

“Oh please. Freid has their tongue so far up Astoria’s ass that King Aston will never even see the knife before it’s in his back. He thinks that because that little blond pipsqueak is blood that he’s controlled.”

“Eloquent as always sir.”

“It’s true. Only Freid doesn’t realize that they’re about to be fucked by Basram.” The spectre nodded his head in agreement, a thin smile tugging at his lips as he recalled his many endless history lessons.

“The Merulian Exchange, but on a much greater scale.” He murmured, always happy to show off his military knowledge for his captain. “Basram will have Freid secretly supplying them as well as openly supplying Astoria, draining their resources and weakening them even further. They’ll use the time to place people in key positions, then in the course of a night sweep in and control everything without a single sword being drawn. Freid will be too dependent on them by that time to do anything and Astoria too overwhelmed to aid them.”

“Exactly. Add Fanelia into the mix and Astoria will be hit on two sides, three if that moron Vashinel decides to try to steal an easy victory and go after them. That will leave Daedalus, Cesario and Egzardia as the wild cards.

“Cesario will likely side with Astoria seeing as how they’ve been allies for ages. Egzardia is still hostile to Basram, but if Zaibach makes a move, that will leave them cut off from their allies. They’ll do what’s in their long term best interest and likely side with Basram. Daedalus will most likely wait and see who’s the victor, but I could also see them striking an agreement with Aston to protect their northern borders. Of course, that would split their attention between Fanelia and Zaibach.” Dilandau leaned his head back against the stone wall and gave his wings a little stretch.

“Either way, everyone is going to be fighting each other while Basram marches right over them all with their damn Fate Alteration Soldiers.” Crimson eyes narrowed and he glanced over at Miguel in curiosity. “Have you anything to report on that front?”

“Nothing as of yet sir.” The dragonslayer hung his head slightly in shame at being unable to provide any helpful information. “There have been no sudden influx of spirits on the Paths of the Dead... not since you and Van tore the labs apart. Whatever energies the two of you unleashed, they tore at our links to you and we couldn’t approach, even after it was over, the place burned us. I’m not even sure we could approach that area ever again, even with you by our side.”

“What about the other times?” Dilandau frowned, concern filling his voice. “Did we hurt you?”

“Hurt isn’t the right word sir.” Miguel was obviously choosing his words carefully, afraid of upsetting his captain without intending to. “It creates this barrier of energy that shoves us away. We could fight against it, but that’s when we feel our link erode. Even afterwards, it’s hard to approach you until the energies have run their course and dispersed.”

Dilandau felt an icy chill run through him at Miguel’s words, realizing that he could very easily have destroyed his last link with his men and not even realized it. Without them....No, he didn’t even want to think about it. Bad enough that their only connection was that mere shadow of what they’d once had. He couldn’t risk this... couldn’t risk them.

“Be careful around it.” His fingers itched to wrap around Miguel’s arm, to squeeze until he felt skin bruise just to prove to himself that his man was really there. It was only with the greatest of effort that he kept them placed on his knees, though his fingers did clench into tight fists. “I don’t know how to control it yet and I refuse to lose you to something as silly as getting laid.” Pale brows pulled down into a faint frown as he pondered what he’d been told, weighing it against what he knew of the enemy.

“Be careful around anything to do with those Fate Alteration Soldiers.” He warned after several long moments of silence. “We don’t know their abilities, but if they can release those bursts of power as well, then they could do serious damage to you all. When they do appear, I order you to keep your distance. I won’t lose you again.”

“You’ll never lose us Sir. We’ll be by your side forever.” Dilandau kept staring at his hands, refusing to meet that beautiful and loving gaze, feeling the weight of his failure to protect them weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“I thought that once... I was proven wrong. I won’t make that mistake again.” He murmured softly, closing his eyes and pretending that he couldn’t hear the faintest echoes of their screams as they’d died. Each voice calling out to him, begging him for safety, believing that he’d save them before it was too late. All he’d done is stood there, staring on in horror as one by one they died.

His distress must have shown on his face because he felt the icy chill of Miguel’s touch on his uninjured cheek.

“How long can you hold out sir?” Soft lips pulled back to reveal strong teeth in a vicious sneer as Dilandau instinctively began to deny any sort of weakness on his part, but it faded quickly. Miguel was dead because he’d failed to be perfect, they’d all died because of him. The least he could do was stop pretending to them.

“I’m not sure.: He admitted in a soft voice, barely above a whisper. “I don’t really remember much whenever the Madoushi put me in isolation. It all sort of gets jumbled up until I’m not sure what’s real or not. With you and the feather... a few hours before I notice any degeneration of my mental facilities. After that...”

He had no idea how long it would take these dungeons to set off his conditioning. Van’s presence through his feather certainly took the edge off, fooling his mind into believing that he was actually here in the cell with him. Miguel speaking with him added to the illusion, likely granting him a few more hours before he became desperate.

At least there was stimuli here, no matter how pathetic. In that, the Freidians had done him a favour. The floor hurt, the bucket stank, he had things to look at... but really, it was all a matter of time. A day, two days... his men might grant him a reprieve but soon the isolation would weigh on him and he’d grow desperate for contact... any contact.

“I’ll stay with you for as long as I can sir.” Miguel promised him, sorrow and longing filling his voice, bringing a bittersweet smile to Dilandau’s lips. He had no doubt that his friend would push himself as far as he could, and then push a little bit more just to help him, but in the end, Miguel couldn’t remain at his side forever. None of them could.

 

 

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Allen grumbled softly as he stared out the bridge’s window at the landscape passing by far below. “The Crusade moves twice as fast as this bucket.”

“Feel free to get our and push, your Lordship.” Sibille sneered from where she leaned against the doorway, effectively blocking anyone from leaving or entering for none dared to ask her to move. “Just mind that first step.”

He refused to dignify her comment with an answer and instead continued staring impatiently out the window, wishing silently that he hadn’t just sounded like Merle for a moment there. Truly these were dark times.

“Worried about that pale little bastard brother of yours?” She continued, idly drawing one of her daggers as well as a wet stone from her belt. Spitting on the stone, she began to slowly drag the blade across it’s surface, creating a low shriek which felt like claws down Allen’s back.

“He is NOT a bastard.” The response was instinctual and found it’s way past his lips before he could will them shut and continue ignoring the harridan. There was no way a gentleman or a knight could sit back and allow his own blood to be insulted in such a manner. “And of course I’m worried. He’s still a child.”

That elicited a laugh from the vile woman and Allen found himself clenching his hands into fists as he struggled hold his temper in check.

“Thou shalt never attack an unarmed foe. Thou shalt never charge an unhorsed opponent, thou shalt never attack from behind....” He murmured the code he’d embraced with his very heart and soul, drawing strength from the words and ideals they epitomized.

“He’s a warlord you idiot, you need to come to terms with that of he’ll be the one to drive a dagger into your stupid back.” She grinned at him viciously, giving her blade a particularly loud scrape against the stone. “Unlike some morons, he’s perfectly happy to attack from behind. Honour is for your silly duels, not for the battlefield.”

“Honour is life.” Allen retorted heatedly before catching himself and taking a deep calming breath before continuing. “It sets us aside from the beasts and raises us up to true civilization. Without honour, there is only anarchy and madness.”

“And do you believe that your precious honour will protect you from your brother?” He could feel her eyes on him as she asked the vicious and pointed question but that didn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat. “You saw the shadowgraphs as well as I did, what we’re heading into IS madness and anarchy. Do you think for one moment that your darling little murderous sibling will stay his hand if he see’s you as an enemy? It’s not as if the two of you have the closest relationship with each other. Rumour has it that he shattered your guymelf in battle and drove his claws through your guts.”

“That was war madam, this is a rescue mission.”

“This is Dilandau Albatou in Freid. I assure you Schezar that blood has been spilled. Likely a great deal of it. What will you do I wonder, if he’s managed to turn entire villages into twisted monsters? Will you draw steel on your own flesh and blood? Will you look into those mad red eyes of his and do your best to drive your sword into his guts?”

“Why do you persist in saying such things!?” It was impossible to keep the anguished tones from his voice as he punched the thick glass, desperate to vent the wild and terrified rage which burned in his guts at her cruel words. “He is my brother! My last living kin and I will do everything I can to save him, even from himself!”

The knife stopped it’s endless grating against the stone as she paused in her work to stare at him with those cold and calculating eyes. A faint smile of triumph ghosted across her thin lips, making the knight wonder what he’d just revealed to the harpy, not that he particularly cared at this moment. All he wanted was peace for his ears, his soul and his heart, something she seemed determined to shatter.

“What makes you believe the little beast can be saved?” She asked softly, her voice low in the sudden silence of the bridge. “You’ve been enemies longer than you’ve been kin. Despite all appearances, you’re not a stupid man, so why do you believe so utterly that you can save him?”

“I believe because I must.” He snapped at her, pushing away from the glass and stalking towards the door. Stopping in front of her, he glared into those cold eyes of hers, daring her to turn her blade against him. “I have seen the power of pure belief. I will believe in him because if I don’t, then who will?” His eyes narrowed dangerously and his hand dropped to the handle of his sword, drawing what comfort he could from the familiar grip. “And if I am wrong, then so be it. At least I will have been true to my heart.”

To his utter surprise, she actually stepped out of the way, allowing him passage. Gritting his teeth, he stalked past her, wishing for nothing more at this moment then to be as far away from her foul presence as the ship allowed.

“There’s a reason your heart is held within a cage of bones.” She replied to his retreating back. “It’s a foolish little thing and should never be permitted to wander free. That’s where true madness lies.” A faint chuckle followed his departing form as Sibille casually returned to sharpening her blade. “I can see the resemblance between you. You’re both shit at listening to reason.”

Allen stalked down the hallway, one hand still resting on the hilt of his sword while the other was clenched so tightly in a fist that he was half convinced that the skin across his knuckles was about to split. What had Adelphos been thinking? Sending that vile woman along with them? It was obvious that she had no agenda aside from tormenting the knight. How were they supposed to save people when they couldn’t even behave in a civilized fashion for more than five minutes?

“Don’t fall for it.” A softly spoken woman’s voice whispered from the darkness of an open doorway, causing Allen to pause in his tracks. Glancing off to the side, he saw the painted lids and grey eyes of the sorcerer. Wonderful, now his day was truly complete.

Still, no matter how much he despised all that she stood for, the woman had done nothing since their meeting to merit any disrespect from him. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to barely even speak to him directly or indulged in any sort of eye contact. It was rather unnerving, made doubly so by the fact that she was speaking to him now.

“Don’t fall for what madam?” He found himself asking, forcing his shoulders to relax and his mind to NOT think about how this woman was one of the people who’d taken part in the experiments on his brother. Oh, no one had come out and said it directly, but the way she spoke, how she referred to him by a number rather than a name... it was horrifyingly obvious and put his devotion to the knightly code to its greatest test.

“Sibille is an expert manipulator when she wishes to be.” The sorcerer continued, her eyes never meeting Allen’s. Instead, they seemed to stare at a point on his chin, never daring to rise any higher. “She’ll seeks to rile you up regarding your brother, ensuring that you’re so fixated on him that you fail to notice in time when she kills the young king.”

Sadly, he didn’t find that at all surprising, though he was more than a tad annoyed to realize that he’d been falling for it. It made perfect sense really. Her son had been a dragonslayer, murdered by Van. It was only logical that the woman would seek revenge as would any proper mother. Granted, if she’d treated that boy the way she treated her surviving child, it really was no wonder that he’d happily joined forces with Gaea’s most violent teenager. After this woman, it must have seemed like paradise.

“How much of a danger to Van is she?” He couldn’t help but ask. While he trusted neither of these women, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t weight what he learned from them against his own observations, besides, this was the most verbose he’d seen the sorcerer since they’d met.

Brushing a few loose strands of vibrant green hair from her face, the woman glanced nervously down the hallway then stepped back into the shadows of the room. For a moment, Allen thought that he’d overstepped his bounds and driven her away, but a pale hand waved him in from the darkness, bidding that he follow.

Naturally, this had all the hallmarks of a rather spectacularly stupid move, but the lure of learning about his companions was simply too strong. There was also the added bonus of knowing that out of all of his “companions”, Geesha was by far the least skilled in lying and misinformation.

Over the course of his adult life, Allen had found himself in the personal rooms of many women. It would be crude to count just how many, but he’d certainly never seen a room quite like this. Gone were the usual female fripperies of lace, flowers or anything indicating any sort of softness. Instead, the first thing he was greeted by was a life sized drawing of a human body. Skinless and rendered in rather excruciating detail, Allen found himself utterly at a loss for words.

That was but one among many jarring items available for his perusal. The shadowgraphs taken of the site at Basram were stuck to the wall of the cabin, as was a map highlighting each area where an energy surge was noted. Various symbols were drawn alongside them in Zaibachi, their content a mystery, though it was a safe assumption that they listed as much detail as could be found regarding each site.

Books covered every available surface and where they didn’t, the place had been taken over by test tubes, phials and lab equipment best left uncontemplated. Why she had so much equipment in her room was beyond him seeing as how the hangar of the leviship had been converted into a lab for her personal use. Most of her time was spent there, pouring over notes with Regis and fine tuning various devices which were in theory, supposed to keep the energy surges Dilandau was creating at bay.

Realizing that everything he was looking at in some way related to either his brother, or the experiments he’d been a part of, Allen shot the anatomical drawing a nervous look, praying fervently that it wasn’t his sibling he was looking at.

Perhaps he should have stuck with the harridan. This room and this woman was far more intimidating than a sword wielding harpy.

“Vengeance aside, Sibille knows that Basram wants both sub- Captain Albatou and King Fanel in their custody.” Geetha began, stumbling as she always did over Dilandau’s name. It was a habit which did not endear her at all to the knight. In fact, he felt his brow lowering in anger as it once again reminded him who this woman was, and what she’d done. “Sibille believes that if one of the pair was removed from the equation, then Basram will be unable to continue their plans.” Despite being on her home ground, the sorcerer still refused to meet Allen’s eyes and he found the effect to be most disquieting.

“And killing Van works so nicely in her favour.” He couldn’t quite keep the sneer of contempt from his voice but thankfully, the woman didn’t seem to even notice it.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Geesha nodded her head slightly, the minimalist gesture easily missed had he not been watching her closely. “Captain Dilandau shares many of her views regarding the old regime of Zaibach and could be easily convinced to fight alongside her, overthrowing the government. King Fanel has made his stance on Zaibach’s current state abundantly clear with his votes on the Allied council. If she must choose between them, she will readily sacrifice the king for the captain.”

“She honestly thinks that she can control Dilandau?” Allen couldn’t help but chuckle at the sheer absurdity of the idea. “He cares nothing about politics so long as he gets to fight.”

“I’m given the understanding that there is a certain mutual respect between the two of them. It would not be unheard of for them to work together for reciprocal gain.” Turning away from him, Geesha reached over and picked up one of the phials and holding it up for inspection. A foul looking brownish liquid filled the glass and thin plumes of steam rose up from the top, smelling sharp yet with sweet undertones. Ignoring Allen for the moment, she swirled the contents around idly for a moment before raising it to her lips and taking a sip.

The knight almost reached out a hand to stop her, but then thought better of it. Noticing the aborted gesture, the woman smiled thinly and held the container towards him.

“Your first reaction was to stop me from drinking this, but you stopped. Why?” She sounded genuinely curious and Allen crossed his arms over his chest, fully aware of how defensive the position appeared. Jeture, did all the women in Zaibach play head games? However did the country manage to continue to breed.

“It was not my place.”

“We are allies are we not? Bound by similar purpose. Would it not behoove you to ensure that your allies stayed safe, even from themselves?” Thin lips pulled back into a faint smile as pale grey eyes continued to study the contents of the phial as if they possibly contained some great secret within their depths. “Would you not have stopped King Fanel, or your brother from drinking this?”

“Van is more prideful than intelligent at times, and Dilandau believes too firmly in his own immortality. Both require constant supervision to save them from themselves as you so eloquently put it. You my lady, I do not believe that you would imbibe a dangerous substance merely to make a point.”

“Do you know me so well then Allen Schezar?” She asked, glancing up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time since they’d met. Something cold and hard glinted in their depths as she held out the phial towards him. “Drink then. If it is truly as safe as you seem so confident it is, then all will be well. If not, then you wilfully stayed your hand and allowed an ally to poison themselves without any attempt to stop them.”

Blue eyes widened as he hard the challenge in her voice. Pure shock held the knight in place as he stared at her, trying to reconcile this cold bold woman with the timid nervous thing he’d met in the tunnels beneath Zaibach.

“This game accomplishes nothing.” He stated flatly, making no move to take the phial and drink it’s mysterious substance. “I know not what point you’re seeking to prove, but you’re wearing my patience dangerously thin, all of you are.”

“You are correct in your assessment that King Fanel would drink this, believing that I would never be duplicitous enough to drink a poison willingly. He would not consider the possibility that I was somehow either immune or had already taken the antidote. In his naivete, he would also believe that no ally would ever poison someone on their own side, especially for no reason.

“Dilandau would suspect all of these things and drink it anyway, believing that he is too strong to be affected, or simply because to do otherwise would imply cowardice. Of course, there is always the possibility of him simply running me through and ending the matter through violence. But you? I’m curious to see which path you would choose.”

“Why? What does this possibly accomplish?” Could no one speak plainly out of this group? It’s horrifying to think that the straightest answer he’d received on anything had come from General Adelphos, the man who’d commanded the armies which had slaughtered countless thousands of lives.

“Call it an exercise in perception if you will.” Geesha replied, the hand holding out the phial never once wavering. “You look at me and assume the very worst. I assure you of course that your darkest imaginings do not come close to scratching the surface of my depredations. I am a Madoushi of the First Order. The Eidolon project is but one of many which I took part in and while your sibling was not one of my subjects, I still bear a rather large burden of guilt in regards to him.

“You look at Sibille and see a beast wearing the skin of a woman. Again, this is true enough. She was a master spy and assassin for the old regime and has a rather impressive list of accolades to her name. I can see how you interact with her and know that you are aware of her skills, yet you insist on underestimating her because of her gender. A foolish assumption which should be well beneath a man of your intellect.

“Most importantly, and the reason I am conducting this experiment, is because of my assistant.” Her smile faded slightly though she continued to hold Allen’s gaze unflinchingly. “He is but a child, caught up in the choices made by the adults around him, much as King Fanel and Captain Albatou were. You would condemn him for actions in a war he took no part in, for atrocities he knew nothing about. My apprentice is guilty of little more than a foolish infatuation and a terrible inability to quit when he’s behind. Even now, he fears that he has lost all hope of your support as an ally, yet still he blunders onward, determined to prove himself to be of worth.”

“Your devotion to your apprentice is admirable.” Allen replied through gritted teeth, wishing fervently that he was anywhere but here in this moment. “However, every word to pass that boy’s lips are lies or misdirection. I cannot trust in one who has no honour.”

“Zaibach honour, and the courtly honour of Astoria are vastly different things Sir Allen. I would have thought that your brother would have taught you that. Or, did you not ever sit down and honestly converse with the sibling you speak so highly of to us? We are not without our honour, it is merely far more practical than yours, shaped by a history of deprivation and suffering.”

“Your lips sully the word.” He snapped, unable to help himself in the face of this cruel affront to that which he held most dear. “By your own admission, you tortured and murdered children. You forced other children to become killers and sculpted them into monsters. Do not speak to me of the honour of Zaibach. It’s heart is tainted by your actions.”

“Ah, then I deserve the poison? Is that why you stay your hand?”

“Killing yourself would not restore your honour, nor would it bring back the lives you’ve taken.” Honestly, he had no idea exactly what those foul experiments had entailed. Gaddes had steadfastly refused to elaborate on what they’d learned from the files, and he’d found the scholar he’d been working with to be remarkably tight lipped as well. It did nothing to set the knight’s heart at ease and led him to spend many a sleepless night imagining all manner of horrors that his sibling had been forced to endure.

Anything that was dark enough to leave Dilandau Albatou screaming in his sleep, or spending his waking hours on the knife edge of panic at the very thought of even remembering his past was beyond the scope of anything he could dream up.

“You’re right of course.” Geesha agreed in a soft voice, her eyes once again dropping down to stare pointedly at his chin. “I can never atone for what I did, for what I allowed to happen. Those lives are forever lost and the dishonour will always stain my soul. I am a monster and I can admit it. My chosen penance is to spend the rest of my days giving back what I’ve taken from this world. Every day my soul screams for death, to put an end to my memories, but I owe it to those children, to your sibling to live and endure.

“I’m under no illusion that the scales will ever be balanced Allen Schezar. I am a cursed creature and I accept this. However, the debt I owe Captain Albatou is great, far greater than you can ever imagine, and I will not rest until I can find a way to repay him.” She smiled thinly, it was a dark and bitter smile. “He will never forgive me. The best I can hope for is a quick death at his hands, though I imagine it will be a rather drawn out affair. Until then, I will do what I can to aid him, and if that means working through you, then so be it. That is Zaibach honour Sir Allen. It’s not pretty, it’s not genteel, but it is no less valid than your precious code of chivalry.”

Allen stared at her for a long moment, weighing her words against the simmering fury in his heart. Oh sweet Jeture he wanted to run her through for her admitted crimes, even more for the ones she simply alluded to. How anyone could continue to live day in and day out with such a vile weight pressing down on their conscience was beyond his understanding. Only a complete monster could go on living with such darkness in their soul, but it was clear to him that she did struggle on despite the pain tearing her apart from the inside out. It did not make him pity her or sympathize with her in the least. As monstrous as they were, they were her choices in the end, and now she alone would take responsibility, but... he could respect her decision to do so.

If he could so willingly forgive Dilandau for his many many acts of wanton brutality, could he not also seek to extend that same capacity to another? The first step towards change lay in the willingness of others to accept and allow the other to grow. Hitomi had been right in that regard.

Slowly, deliberately, Allen reached out and took the phial from her hands and then raised it to his lips. He took a large sallow of the foul looking contents and found that it tasted much the same as it smelled. Sharp yet sweet, leaving a lingering almost herbal taste in his mouth.

“It’s tea.” Geesha replied softly, her eyes still downcast. “Medicinal tea. It helps ease the withdrawal symptoms of the vetch.” Ah, that was at least one worry off of his chest, hopefully there were no side effects though he wasn’t about to ask and ruin the gesture he’d just made.

“Make no mistake sorcerer.” He stated levelly, handing her back the phial. “The debt you owe me is great for your part in taking my sister away from me. By your own admittance, your debt to Dilandau is much greater, and I fully intend to ensure that you do everything in your power to pay it. Should he still choose to take your life, know that I will not stop him. Not with a sorcerer.”

“Understood Sir Allen, I would expect nothing less from you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having fun coming up with a bit of Atlantean culture. Seeing as we know absolutely nothing about them, it gives me a lot of room to play, same with Freid. So much evil!! Muahahaha  
> So, Varie wasn't quite as pure and innocent as it first seemed, though like most heroes in this show, she had the best of intentions. Poor Van is even more confused, though seriously, I would kill to see him trying to explain to Dilandau that he was now Fanelia's queen.  
> Poor Miguel, even in death Dilandau is a cock tease to him. Naughty little albino. I do love the interactions between the slayers and their captain though, especially now that they are a little freer to make their true opinions known to their leader. There's still the sense that there is a deep friendship shared between them... along with an unhealthy threat of violence.  
> Poor Cassian, getting stuck working with Merle, and poor Merle, having to deal with a stuck up brat of a catkin. He's so getting bed pan duty. And poor poor Palos stuck between them. Death might have been less painful. Granted, Fate hasn't finished giving that poor boy one hell of a headache for his actions.  
> Next Chapter: Hard decisions and a price is paid.


	18. Every Rose has a Thorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chid makes a terrible mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay spring is finally here! Less rain, bright burning ball of light in the sky.... I could get used to this. Of course, now the stupid times change... ugh. I can't win.  
> So, things are about to get crazy again for our lovely little heroes as Freid paves the way to hell with good intentions... well, at least Chid more or less has good intentions. Really, you think that someone would take a moment to think about why the draconians are known as bringers of chaos and misfortune. Maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't try to screw with them.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Chid sat on a low built chair and stared accusingly at Van’s wings while the king paced back and forth across the room. Van could feel the weight in his stare and knew that the boy was being torn up with the nearly overwhelming sense of betrayal. He was so young, so trusting of those around him and to suddenly have his world upended like that... royal or not, any child was bound to act out. The only consolation Van had at this moment was that that vile regent wasn’t present.

Still, this wasn’t a conversation Van wanted to have right now, or ever. All he wanted was to get out of this damn trumped up prison cell and be with his family, all of them. Gods of Gaea, Ignis and Irma must be terrified. The two of them were only hours old. Had they been thrown in a cell as well? Had they been torn from each other and were now sitting in cells wondering what new cruelty fate had in store for them? Not to mention Kamata. Was the dragon even still alive? Van couldn’t imagine the mighty beast sitting there quietly while strange humans tried to separate him from his charges. Without either Van or Dilandau to calm him down, the poor creature would likely go berserk.

“Answer me Van.” The childish voice of the young duke hardened, becoming chill with command as he demanded his answers and Van found himself pausing in mid step. Taking a deep breath, the king glanced over his shoulder at his friend, noting that those normally warm blue eyes were cold, distant and still glaring at his wings. It was something he likely should get used to if he was going to have them out. People would see them before they saw him, even his friends.

It hurt deeply to realize this and for a moment, Van wanted to lash out at Chid, to yell at the boy for being so easily swayed against his friends. It wouldn’t accomplish anything other than make their already tenuous situation even worse and he knew it. Chid had known Regent Ishaan for most of his life and depended heavily on the man to keep his country running as smoothly as possible. He’d grown to trust him implicitly and really, the boy still was only seven years old and likely looked at the man as a substitute father. It was hardly Chid’s fault that the man might have ambitions beyond ensuring that Chid would have a smooth transition to the throne when he came of age.

No, he couldn’t be mad at Chid for this, and really, if he’d learned anything from his visit with Momma Fortuna, it was that acting like a spoiled self indulgent child wasn’t going to gain him anything. He had to be the adult here, no matter how much it hurt.

“Van.” Chid’s voice warned of a rapidly worsening temper and his tone sounded eerily like that young vision of Dilandau he’d had. Any minute now, people were going to start disintegrating.

“What do you see when you look at me Chid?” Van asked, his voice soft and gentle as he finally turned around to face the boy properly. Blue eyes widened slightly as the question threw the boy off balance for a moment, shorting out his anger.

“P...pardon?”

“What do you see? What am I to you right now? Who am I?”

“You’re Van.” Chid replied, not quite understanding the question. “A draconian.” It hurt to hear that far more than he thought he would. Not that he was ashamed over his heritage, but rather that Chid would call him that before naming him a friend, a hero or a fellow leader of a nation.

“I see.” Van closed his eyes and took a deep breath, swallowing the pain and buying it deep down inside.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The young duke asked, hurt and confused as any young child would be, given such strange circumstances. “Why didn’t you tell my father? It would have changed so much! Why didn’t you stop them!! You could have saved us!” Once again his voice grew hard and filled with anger. “Was this all some sick joke?!”

“They’re just wings Chid.” Van replied gently, by some strange miracle, his voice didn’t break or quiver and betray his seething emotions.

“But they’re not!” Chid replied quickly, nearly stumbling over himself as he stared at the shining feathers, not even realizing how badly he was hurting his friend. “The Ancient Ones could change fate! Bend it to their will! You could fix my country! You could bring my father back!” Tears of desperate hope fell from the boy’s eyes as he stared up at Van, expecting an onslaught of miracles with the pure and total faith of a seven year old.

“I can’t Chid.” He knew even as he spoke that the words would not be well received. “They’re just wings.”

“LIAR!” The young duke all but roared in sudden rage. “You appeared out of nowhere on that leviship! The captain said that he saw a brilliant pillar of light pierce the sky, leading him to you! You have powers, you just don’t want to use them! Why!? Aren’t my people good enough? Aren’t we devoted enough?”

“I wish I could help you the way you want Chid, I really do.” It was hard to keep his voice gentle and level, but he managed even though inwardly he was screaming. Can’t you see what you’re asking of me? His mind ranted furiously. To alter the fate of a country, to defy death itself... this was the sort of hubris which had doomed Atlantis, the same arrogance which had driven the Zaibach Empire mad with power. He couldn’t follow that path.

Instead, he simply let his wings droop slightly, the tips of his pinions dragging on the floor.

“If I had that power, I would have saved my people, my country. I would have stopped the war before it had started and spared so many lives.”

“But the ship!!” The boy persisted causing Van to gently pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling the first hints of a rising headache building behind his eyes.

“I can’t control that.” He murmured softly, his voice little more than a whisper. “I couldn’t do it before they took us. They... they experimented on us Chid. They pulled me apart over and over again, dragged me to the brink of death then pulled me back only to do it again the next day. The last time they did it... I don’t think they cared if they killed us.” He shuddered at the memory. It had hurt so badly, then those strange visions and the nightmare that followed. It must have shown on his face because Chid’s face lost some of its fury. Now, concern filled his eyes and he reached out a small hand, offering comfort.

“Van...”

“You’re king here.” Van said, his eyes closing as he drew in a deep breath. “I can’t tell you how to act or how to run your country. All I can do is ask that you rule with your heart as well as your head. Do what you feel is right, but please Chid, make sure you understand the situation fully before deciding something you can’t take back.” Opening his eyes, he looked over at Chid, hoping that the boy truly understood the gravity of the situation and the deadly precipice he stood on.

“For a long time I let anger and my desire for revenge rule me. It wasn’t until I walked in the shoes of my enemy that I understood the truth behind Hitomi’s words. If we never give a person a chance to change, if we never see them as anything but the worst in all of us, then why should they try to improve? We’re the one’s who have to try to make this world a better place, and we can only do that with love, understanding and forgiveness.”

It was was if a switch had been thrown in the boy. Those concerned eyes darkened and the small mouth pressed into a thin line as Chid pulled back, drawing himself up to his full height and glaring up at the dark king.

“He’s a monster Van. A demon and he has you under his spell. He has so many people under his spell. I’ve spoken to the Holy Men and they’ve agreed to purge the demon of his evil so you can be free.” Van felt his blood turn to ice at those words and he darted forward, grabbing the small boy by the arms tightly enough to bruise.

“What have you done Chid!?” His fragile control shattered as sick dread threatened to overwhelm him and it was all he could do not to throttle the boy. “If you’ve hurt him...”

“GUARDS!” Chid yelled loudly and Van heard the door behind him burst open as two large and burly men raced forward, weapons drawn. Quickly releasing the duke, Van stepped back, hands raised and apart, doing his best to show that he wasn’t a threat.

“You’re Majesty!?” One of the guards asked, glaring at Van warily. It didn’t escape the king’s notice that both men had placed themselves between the two royals. As for Chid, he did his best to appear calm as he straightened his robes with shaking hands, his already creamy pale flesh looking several shades lighter.

“I’m fine, thank you Jaali.” Chid replied after a few moments, his voice wavering only slightly. “I’ve heard enough.” With that, the young duke began walking out of the room, his head held high and his steps loud in the ensuing silence.

Van watched him, shaking with impotent fury and wishing desperately that he could fight his way through them, tearing through their ranks until he found his family. As is sensing his thoughts, Chid paused at the door and turned to look at his former friend.

“I promise that I’ll free you from this dark spell Van. I’ll free all of Gaea.”

“Don’t do this Chid. Please. He’s not your enemy!”

“He’s everyone’s enemy Van, you just can’t see that anymore and I’m sorry for that. But I’ll help you, I promise.” “Chid! Don’t do this! Please!” His words fell on deaf ears as the boy’s face became an impassive mask once more and the young duke turned away, retreating out of the silken cell, flanked by his guards. The sound of the heavy door slamming shut and the accompanying thuds of the locks and bar but in place made Van shudder in despair as he sank down to his knees.

Tears edged his eyes at the thought of what was going to happen to the other youth, to the people he’d grown to care so deeply about in such little time. They were all his family, his fate bound to theirs. He couldn’t lose them, but he had the horrible dread that it just might come to that.

Momma Fortuna had spoke of the curse each draconian bore, and Van couldn’t help but wonder if his was that he’d be forced to live on as his family was torn from him over and over again. How many losses could his heart handle? How many times would he feel his soul shatter?

Trembling hands reached down, gently cupping the softly shimmering feather and the gently glowing pendant. Pressing them both to his chest, he closed his eyes and pressed them both tightly against his heart.

“I won’t lose you. I don’t care what it takes. I won’t bow down to fate, I won’t let my family be taken away again. I’ll rescue you all, just... just hold on.”

He didn’t hear an answer and no great burst of light or power accompanied is softly spoken vow. All he felt was the sensation of the wind against his wings and a growing sense of urgency.

 

 

_This dream_ _was_ _worse than the others, as if it_ _strove to make_ _up for his exhaustion induced reprieve. One might think that in knowing what it was, that some of the edge might be removed, that a sense of empowerment might be granted to the dreamer but the exact opposite was true. Instead, it heralded untold horror as the demons of the subconscious raced forwards, each one eager to rend and tear into the psyche of the dreamer. There was a legion of them, each one of single mind and purpose... to destroy, to shatter the will of the one who’d birthed them and to revel in the destruction which followed. There was no defence against them, only the need to endure, and he’d endured so much already._

_It hadn’t started the way they usually did, and that should have tipped him off that something was wrong. Instead of that brief moment of brilliant confidence and sweet anticipation as they drove the White Dragon to ground once more, unaware of the terror and death which would follow, he’d been in the labs._

_The table had been that familiar icy slab of metal, biting into his skin, chilling him to his bones as he struggled against his restraints. Shroden had stood over him, the brilliant lights behind his head, outlining him in gold while leaving the rest of him as little more than a shadow shrouded demon. His features were gone, wiped clean by the darkness save for the shining twin circles of his glasses. They looked like empty flat disks of silver, staring down at the bound form and Dilandau could feel their hunger devouring him._

_Icy cold fingers stroked along his body, drawing lines of fire in their passing and he couldn’t help but cringe in disgust as they traced along the many scars crisscrossing his flesh. Beneath Shroden’s fingers, the nearly invisible blemishes grew livid red before opening up like hundreds of hungry mouths, gaping widely. He could hear them shrieking like starving baby birds and stared in horror as the foul Madoushi dangled bits of rotted and worm filled flesh above them with his free hand._

_“Don’t worry my Eidolon.” He crooned, his touches growing more intimate as he fed morsel after dripping morsel to the mouths. “You’re nothing but an empty thing. I’ll fill you up. Fill you until you burst open.”_

_He wanted to scream, to fight the vile bastard but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The lessons were too deeply ingrained in flesh and bone. All he could do was grit his teeth and endure, hating himself for his capitulation._

_“Do you wish I was your lover?” Shroden crooned softly, his words underscored by the wet sounds of chewing and the hot splatters of blood across his belly. “Is it his touch you crave over my own?” These foul hands traced along his thigh, opening up a long wound along the muscle with a soft tearing sound._

_The Madoushi leaned forward, his body pressing against Dilandau’s, the sudden weight slowly squeezing the air out of his lungs, crushing him._

_“Do you ache for him to fill you? For his voice to whisper sweet lies in your ears? How you’re not some twisted monster doomed to be forever empty and alone, how you matter?” He chuckled cruelly, drinking in Dilandau’s shuddering horror._

_“Answer me.” He ordered, his will wrapping around the youth’s like thin crima claws, squeezing... crushing. “Yes.” The albino ground out through gritted teeth. “I hate you you bastard!”_

_“Tsk tsk, such cruel words, and after I’ve given you everything you so desperately wish for.” Shroden leaned back, sliding off of Dilandau’s body. Grabbing a fist full of hair in his hand, the Madoushi forced him to sit up, the restraints somehow allowing for the movement in that mystical unquestioned way of dreams. Only now could Dilandau see what the man’s body had previously blocked. A shape, hanging on hooks, ragged and broken._

_Once beautiful and shining wings were now black and dull, their delicate bones shattered and broken, the feathers falling slowly like fall leaves. When they hit the floor they crumbled like ash, forming a small pile which mingled with the blood. There was so much blood and it dripped in a steady stream from the carcass hung like meat in a slaughterhouse._

_Van... his warm tan skin now dull and grey hued, his dark eyes which had previously been filled with light and formidable will were nothing but empty bloody sockets filled with carrion insects. They nibbled at the ragged flesh hungrily, their soft pale bodies crawling over each other in their blind hunger. Those soft lips he’d lost himself in kissing over and over again had been cruelly cut away, leaving a wide skeletal grin in their place, raw muscle gleaming in the harsh light of the room._

_Like a carcass in a freezer, he was hung upside down, allowing the blood to drain from the slit across his throat, but Dilandau knew immediately that this hadn’t been the wound which had killed him. No, that honour was left to the gaping hole which split him from his throat to his groin, nearly slicing him in half before cruel hands had hollowed him out to the point that his spine gleamed wetly in the room’s harsh light._

_The gaping hole writhed with movement as hundreds of maggots and beetles fought each other for the choicest bits of flesh and Dilandau could hear the soft wet sounds of their hungry little mouths. They sounded exactly like the mouths decorating his body, devouring the flesh Shroden was calmly peeling from Van’s corpse and dropping into them._

_“It’s cruel is it not?” The Madoushi murmured dispassionately, tearing free another strip of raw ed meat and neatly dropping it into a quivering opening on Dilandau’s abdomen. “To have so much power and so little control. You wishes granted so cruelly.” He chuckled in dry amusement, the fingers buried in Dilandau’s hair tightening, denying the youth the chance to look away. “You wanted this, you asked for this. Fickle thing.” Another strip of flesh devoured, another piece of Van lost forever._

_He was so hungry, that’s where the true horror lay. The more those greedy toothless mouths decorating his body devoured, the hungrier he grew and it wasn’t long before he was moaning softly, straining against his bonds to press himself up, his body begging for more like a starving dog._

_NO! This was Van! This was disgusting! It was horrible! Sweet Fate he was hungry! He couldn’t get enough, he needed more! Anything for another bite! Please! Please feed him more!_

_“You destroy everything you touch. Your love kills. When will you realize this? You’ve already devoured so many lives...” Dilandau could see the others now, the vast stretch of bodies spread around them in a charnel pit. The stench of rot and death filled his nose, choking him, making him want to vomit, but still his hunger tore at him, demanded more lives, more flesh!_

_“Only with me will you ever be whole.” Shroden whispered, the words reverberating through him as he whimpered and mewled for more. “Only I know what you need.”_

_Then he saw them, scattered about on the piles of the rotting dead. Fifteen figures, broken and ruined, stripped of their flesh, their naked bones grinning at him obscenely through the tattered remains of their armour, blue amour... his men._

_His moans became screams as he stared into those empty eyes and stripped faces. Each one was turned to face him, their arms stretched out as if to touch him one last time, bound by loyalty to him even in death._

_“MIGUEL! GATTI!! SHESTA, DALLET!!! NO!!”_

_“Yes!” Shroden grinned down at him, the brilliant gleam of his teeth suddenly visible in the darkness of his face. “You ate them up, you devoured them! They’re a part of you because they can never escape! Every life you’ve taken, you’ve devoured and added to your power. Oh my Eidolon, you are so perfect and this war will make you stronger still. So many lives to claim...”_

_Thin bony fingers traced along his chest over his heart, their touch cold as ice was answered by a searing heat from within. Even as Dilandau looked down, he could see a brilliant glow beneath his skin, a reddish purple, the colour of dragenergist._

_He struggled to free himself from his Masters grip, to pull away from that loathsome touch, but the fingers sank into his skin, wrapped around something vital inside of himself and pulled..._

 

He woke up screaming, his skin scraped raw from his thrashing against the rough stone floor but he didn’t notice as he curled up tightly in a ball, sobbing brokenly, his wings wrapping tightly around his body. The sight of his slayers burned into his mind, of Van. Shroden’s words echoed in the silence of his cell, loud in the caverns of his mind with no other sounds to distract from them.

He’d killed them! It was all his fault! Trapped them, devoured them! He was a monster! A disgusting vile beast!Biting back another scream, he pounded at the floor with his fist, feeling the stone bite into the tender skin but not caring. He deserved to hurt, deserved to suffer!

A low grumbling gurgle echoed up from his stomach, demanding food with startling insistence. The mere sound of it brought the true horror of his dream back with startling clarity, forcing Dilandau to roll over onto his hands and knees, retching violently. Only a thin stream of bile trickled past his dry and cracking lips, burning the raw flesh. His stomach was well and truly empty, and had been for some time now.

It had been three days and he hadn’t been fed. They’d provided a scant amount of water, but he could smell the drugs in it and had knocked the small bowl over each time, destroying the temptation it represented. His normally shining wings were now dull and dragged on the rough ground, pulling several feathers loose and making the tender skin beneath bleed. There was a good chance that some of the abrasions were infected, but he didn’t have the energy to care.

How long did it take a human being to die of dehydration? He was rather sure it was three days, but then again, he wasn’t exactly human now was he? In that time, he hadn’t seen anyone save for the single guard who came with the water, arriving and departing in silence, not even looking at him, acting as if he was tainted and unclean.

There were no other prisoners held here, no other signs of life. There weren’t even any rats to catch his attention or feed his body. What sort of self respecting dungeon didn’t have rats? If they kept this up, he was going to lodge a formal complaint.

The thought made him chuckle at the sheer ludicrousness of it all, but the tightening of his throat did nothing but remind him of how dry and torn it was from his screams.

“You should drink the water.” Celena sat down next to him in the spot his slayers usually occupied. He didn’t bother to reprimand her, they hadn’t come around for the past while. Were they unable to manifest because he was so weak or had he devoured them? Placing his hand over his belly, he felt around for those gaping mouths. Bright red lines etched themselves across his pale skin from previous attempts to tear himself apart in his sleep, but in his exhausted state, he saw the mouths open and close, laughing at him. He’d show the fuckers!

“Dilandau, pay attention to me dammit.” Celena waved a hand in front of his face, interrupting his latest attempt to dig a hole through his stomach with his now ragged fingernails.

“Are they still alive?” He asked, looking up at her with bleary eyes. “My men, my Dragonslayers. Where are they? Miguel? Gatti? Dammit, fall in or I’ll beat you until you can’t stand!” His voice was little more than a broken whisper in the darkness, but after so much silence, it sounded louder than booming thunder to his ears.

Celena stared at him for a long moment, deep sorrow reflecting in her eyes.

“Dilandau... they’re dead. They’ve been dead for colours.”

“Lying bitch.” He spat out, turning away from her. “They’re not. They wouldn’t dare. I know where they are, they’re razing that little pisspot country to the ground. Fanelia, that’s what it’s called. Stupid Folken banning me from the flight roster. I’m their captain, I should be leading them! If they come back with a single scratch on their units, I’ll kill them!”

“I swear, you’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met!” Celena snapped, rising to her feet and stomping across the small cell to stand next to the small dish of water. It was a simple ceramic bowl, unadorned and made from baked mud. The glazing on it was shoddy at best, but served to hold the water within well enough.

“Drink it you idiot. You’re growing delusional.”

“It’s drugged.” He found himself murmuring, settling back against the wall and wrapping his wings tightly around himself. He was so damn cold lately and the stones bit into his bruised body ruthlessly, offering him no comfort. “I’m not drinking drugged water.”

“What’s the worst it’s going to do to you?” She snapped back angrily, glaring at him with her azure eyes. “Kill you? Make you act like a raving lunatic? Hate to break it to you Dil, you’re long past that last part.”

“My name is Dilandau.” He snapped back with sudden vehemence. “Not Dil, not Dilly or Dilan or any other stupid abbreviation you’ve come up with in the past twenty four hours. Dilandau! Honestly, my men never showed me this level of disrespect.”

“Maybe if they had, they’d still be with you.” She shot back viciously. “You’re not going to last much longer. Is this really how you want to die? Nothing more than a leathery corpse in a cell? Even Miguel survived long enough to get out of here you know.”

Despite his weakened state, Dilandau surged to his feet with surprising speed, swinging viciously at the girl with all his strength, determined to crush her obnoxious skull with his fist. Instead, his hand passed through her, overbalancing him and sending him crashing to the floor, shedding more than a few feathers along the way.

“Hmph, some warrior.” Celena sneered. “Can’t even beat a scrawny Astorian girl.”

“I fucking hate you.” The albino snarled softly, struggling to pick himself up, more than a little surprised at how badly that burst of energy had drained him.

“Good, get strong enough to kick my ass then.” She snapped back, hardly daunted by his threat. “Drink the water. We’ll deal with the consequences as they come.”

Glaring up at her, Dilandau reached out a hand, loathing how badly it shook or how heavy it felt to move. Sweet Fate, he could smell the water. It was so sweet, so delicious, promising life with all the power of a siren’s song if he’d just press it to his lips.

His fingertips touched the edge of the dish, the ceramic felt cold as ice against his skin and he trembled slightly, wrapping his hands around the little bowl. Just a little sip, just enough to stay alive, to gain back some strength. His body ached for it, demanded it and even though he could detect the bitter tang of the drugs hidden within, he couldn’t stop his dry leathery tongue from licking equally parched lips.

Then, with a defiant snarl, he threw the dish at the bars of the cell, shattering the ceramic into dust, spraying the water out into the hallway.

“You are such a stubborn ass.” Celena grumbled softly, her glare a mix of fond exasperation and honest concern.

“My mind is my own. I’m not giving that up, not for anything.” He shot back before sinking back down to the floor as darkness swallowed him once more.

 

 

“Tell me what’s wrong with the demon.” Ishaan hissed imperiously at Van who continued to sit calmly in his chair, sipping tea. The slight tightening of his fingers and the minute tremble of his hand were the only indicators of the worry which suddenly rushed through him at those cruel words. “Is he mad? Or is this some twisted spell of his?”

With calm deliberation, Van gently set the cup down on the tiny fragile looking saucer and looked up at the man. As always, Regent Ishaan was resplendent in his fine silken robes with gold thread trim, offset with the small treasure trove of jewels he wore about his dark tanned body. The slight afternoon light which filtered in through the thin slit windows of Van’s cell gleamed on the man’s freshly shaven head and the king could smell the hint of fine oils wafting up from him. Clearly, not everyone in Fried was suffering hardship.

In contrast, Chid remained sitting in his chair, quietly passive, still barely looking at Van. The boy had barely spoken to him since their first conversation and he held himself with the wary tension of a deer having scented a wolf on the breeze.

The two guards who stood at the door said nothing. They might as well have been furniture for all that they moved or interacted with the rest of them. It was a harsh change from the polite deference and gentle smiles he’d been graced with on his last visit here.

It was hardly surprising that the Regent was dominating the conversation despite being the lowest ranked man in the room. It was a power the man wielded with all the giddy delight of a child, though Van was under no illusion that this man was anything but. Still, he had to admit that he was more than a little curious as to who was pulling who’s strings. There was no way that this man was blind to Basram’s manipulations. The question was, just what was Regent Ishaan after with this arrangement?

“Answer me King Fanel.” He demanded, his tone still dancing on the knife edge between coldly civil and subtly disrespectful. It was something Van had grown used to when dealing with his own council and seemed to be a default way for older men to speak to younger, at least when positions of power were involved.

“And what would you have me say?” The king replied, watching the man with wary eyes. Despite his calm tone and carefully chosen words, Van felt his stomach churning and his mind screaming in blind panic. What had Dilandau done? Was he alright? Had he broken his word and tried to end his life once more? Had he released his Slayers to begin the slaughter? There were so many possibilities to choose from and few of them were good.

Rather than reveal that, he forced himself to reach forwards once more and gently pick up his cup of tea, inwardly pleased that his hand held steady.

“Anything I say will be no doubt twisted to your own advantage.” He took a delicate sip of tea as if he didn’t have a care in the world before glancing idly at the fuming regent. “Has something happened?” Please say no, please say no. It was an empty plea. There’s no way the man would ask such a question unless something was going on.

“He screams as if he’s being torn apart. The guards can hear him all across the lower level and rumours are abounding that we’re torturing the foul little beast.” Ishaan spat out as if honestly insulted by this. “We are not monsters like those Zaibach demons. We do not mistreat our captives.”

At least the man’s outrage seemed genuine and that gave Van some small relief. Finding himself releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, Van closed his eyes for a moment, offering thanks to whichever god of Gaea was watching over them.

“He’s just escaped from a month of torture, Regent.” He replied. “Your allies are not nearly as humane as you are, I can attest to that and have the scars to prove it.” Opening his eyes, he fixed the man with a level stare, daring him to ague this. There was no denying the healing wounds which decorated Van’s body liberally or the state of utter exhaustion he’d been in when they’d arrived. Of course, he was under no illusion that the Basram ambassador had no doubt blamed Dilandau for his current state.

“Night terrors and panic attacks?” The regent scoffed, sounding almost amused by this knowledge. “The dreaded Crimson Demon of Zaibach is scared of the dark? That’s adorable.”

“Oh yes.” Van agreed, speaking over the edge of his cup, his words aimed at the regent though his eyes were on Chid. “They kept us in an electrified cage like animals, taking us out only so they could strap us down to a metal table and cut us open over and over again. They brought us to the brink of death time and time again then forced us to walk back to our cage, sick and trembling. Every day they did this without fail for roughly a colour.” Taking a deliberate sip of his tea, he made note of the way Chid stiffened, his wide blue eyes unfailingly glancing at the still visible scars across his abdomen.

“It’s adorable that he might take issue with finding himself once again in a cell.”

“He’s refusing his water.” Ishaan deliberately avoided the barb and continued to glare at Van as if he was somehow responsible for this behaviour. “The demon hasn’t had a drop since we placed him in the cell.” Dammit, Van mentally cursed the other draconian several times for pulling another stunt like this. He knew better! They had to stay in healthy condition so they could fight. Why would he refuse something as vital to his survival as water?

“What did you put in it?” He found himself asking, realizing that that was the only possible reason for the dragonslayer’s obstinacy.

“What do you mean?” The Regent at least had the decency to look away though he covered the action well enough.

“Dilandau usually has a good reason for everything he does, even if it doesn’t always make sense to the rest of us. I ask again, what did you put in the water?”

“Datura,” The regent spat out. “It’s to calm him down so that he’s less of a danger to others. The thing is a demon!”

“Datura?” Chid spoke up for the first time this meeting, sounding confused as he looked up at Ishaan with wide blue eyes. “But, that’s what Monk Jaron takes when he meditates. He said that it opens up his mind and frees it from his body.”

“Yes My Duke, it is quite harmless.”

“But... Monk Jaron fasts before taking it... we’re still feeding the prisoner right?” It was the first bit of concern Chid had shown for his enemy and Van wished that he could have taken the time to appreciate it, but absolute outrage won out and he found himself rising to his feet.

“You’re starving him!?” He snarled in a voice which was low and dangerous. “It’s been three days! Are you telling me that he hasn’t had any food or water in three days!?” It was impressive that the regent stood firm against the twin accusing glares and instead replied to them calmly, as if his actions were perfectly justified.

“It is necessary that his body be cleaned and rendered pure for the ritual. Fasting is a necessary step. If he had taken the datura, he would be much more comfortable.” Gods of Gaea, he sounded as if he honestly believed that he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“He surrendered to you peacefully and this is how you treat him? Even when Zaibach held me prisoner they fed me!” Van snarled, his wings fanning out aggressively. “Even Basram saw to our most basic needs.” His fingers reached up to gently clasp the feather around his neck and he felt a sick churning in his stomach as he realized that it no longer shone with its usual lustrous glow. Instead, it looked dull and lifeless, like an ordinary bird feather rather than one belonging to a creature of legend.

“You’re killing him and you don’t even have the humanity to admit it.”

“We’re doing no such thing. We’re going to purge the demon of it’s power and free you from it’s influence. Twisted and dark he might be, but if he is one of the Ancients, we must do all we can to purify him.” Gods of Gaea, they were going to try to undo the dark magic of the Madoushi and Van honestly had no idea if they were even capable of it. It might do nothing, but he’d seen the power of the Freidian monks and knew that it was nothing to scoff at. There was a very real possibility of them hurting Dilandau, or worse, killing him.

“You can’t do that!” He blurted out before he could stop himself. “You’ll kill him!”

“Do not doubt the power of our Holy Men!” Ishaan snapped curtly, fixing the king with a warning glare. “They are unequalled upon Gaea.”

“I don’t doubt their power.” Van shot back. “I’m worried about the zaibach sorcery! Please don’t do this. You’ll kill him!”

“Then that shall be as the fates decree.” The regent sneered coldly down at him. “I find it interesting though that you have yet to ask as to the welfare of your other travelling companions. They have asked after you often, yet you remain fixated on the demon. Does that not strike you as odd King Fanel?”

“They’re not in danger.” Van replied confidently, meeting the taller man’s stare unflinchingly. “If anyone threatened them, I have no doubt that they would be struck down instantly.”

Chid gasped softly at the threat and the regent actually flinched, wary fear entering his eyes for the first time since they’d walked through the doors of the palace. It wasn’t the sort of fear one might show when confronting a threat, it was the sort one had when having one’s fears confirmed.

“Someone died didn’t they?” Van asked, feeling a chill creep across his skin. “Someone tried to hurt one of my people.”

“No, none have died.” Ishaan stated softly and Chid leaned forward, his eyes wide with wonder and awe.

“The council wanted to cull the dragon. They said that it was a danger to the populace, but Monk Jaron said that it was a beast sacred to the Ancient Ones and that seeing as how it travelled in the presence of two Children of the Ancients, that it must be a heavenly beast. He warned that to strike it down would likely enact a terrible curse.”

Van couldn’t help but sigh in relief at the news. While he hadn’t understood the softly whispered instructions Dilandau had given his men, he had no doubt that it was an order to raise every level of hell imaginable on the people of this land should any of his family be hurt. Mercy and temperance weren’t exactly notable traits in the dragonslayer, especially where Freid was concerned.

“So long as he’s with Ignis and Irma, he’ll stay calm. Separate them and the dragon will go wild.” The king cautioned, hoping that the regent would take the words to heart.

“The egzardian halfbreed and deformed lizard-kin girl?” It was hard not to bristle at the less than charitable descriptions of his siblings but Van managed to hold his tongue. “Have no fear King Fanel, they are together with the others.” The regent’s cold eyes studied the dark king for a long moment, weighing his reactions and deciding just how much to reveal.

“While I do not believe that the zaibach trespassers are in fact an invading army, they are still unwelcome within this country and here without permission. They are being held together, along with the wolves and we will ship them back to their ill fortuned lands the instant we have a leviship available for the journey. No doubt they will be tried for desertion on some level, but that is hardly our problem...”

“You’re a heartless monster, you know that right?”

“What is heartless about putting my country first?” Ishaan shot back curtly. “We have barely enough clean water and food for our own people. There is little enough to allow us to take care of the very people who caused this suffering.”

“Those people are innocents! There’s women and children among them!”

“It was part of my understanding that Zaibach often boasts of their warrior women, and the demon himself stands as proof that Zaibach is more than willing to place children in the front lines of war. More importantly, he shows that those children are all too happy to spread chaos when given the opportunity to do so. We will not lose anymore lives to Zaibach meddling.”

“And what of Dilandau? After you’ve _purged_ him, will you send him back as well?” Van spat out the foul word like a curse, loathing the man in front of him and his precious vested self interest.

“Once he’s purged, the demon will face justice here then be sent to Basram to pay for his crimes within that country. I have no doubt that there are a great many countries wishing to see that little beast face righteous punishment for his actions.”

“You can’t send him back there!” Van lunged forward but once again, his arms were grabbed by the guards, their grip as powerful as vices and utterly unyielding.

“I assure you King Fanel that I can and I will. He’s a criminal and must atone for his crimes. No man is above the law, not even an Ancient One.” Regent Ishaan grinned down at Van, relishing the stricken look of utter horror on the boy’s face even though he adopted an expression of deep and profound sorrow. “This is clearly a sign of the demon’s influence on the young king. I pray that our most Holy Men will free him soon. Come Chid, we have seen enough.”

“Chid! Don’t let him do this! This isn’t right! This isn’t what your Father would have wanted!” Van struggled against the men holding him but both were twice his size and far stronger than he’d ever be. They weren’t even breaking a sweat as they held him pinned between them.

Rather than bring an end to this madness, Chid just smiled up at him sadly, his eyes radiating deep sorrow though no tears fell.

“I’ll pray for you Van. This will all turn out for the best, you just have to have faith.”

 

 

“Your Majesty, May I have the honour of a few moments of your time?” Chid looked up from where he sat meditating in the garden. He’d been coming here a lot since the death of his Father, it was a pure and pristine place where the sculptures and flowers seemed to flow together in perfect harmony, encouraging deep thought and even deeper introspection. At least, it had... before Zaibach had come. Now the statues were shattered and the flowers burnt... save for some strange looking roses which seemed to stubbornly bloom in the ashes of the ruins. None of the surviving groundskeepers could remember there being roses here before and had sought to remove them. Chid had quickly put a stop to it, feeling that anything which found the strength and desire to grow, not to mention thrive in the ruins of the old demanded respect.

“Regent Ishaan is in private meetings this afternoon. I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow if you wish to speak to him.” Chid murmured softly, his eyes fixing on the soot stained statue of an atlantean, their wings upraised as if preparing to fly up to embrace the sun. It had once been snowy white marble, but now the wings and most of the upper body were blackened from the heat of the fires, casting the figure forever into shadow. The roses twined defiantly around the statues body, growing around the wings and outstretched arms almost protectively and Chid was convinced that it held some deeper meaning.

He expected the man to leave as so many others had in the past, wishing to speak only to the one who held real power, not some child playing at being a grownup.

The young duke was under no illusion as to what he was. A figurehead, a puppet... a child. His council had made that abundantly clear on more than enough occasions for the lesson to sink in. Still, Chid couldn’t help but remember how his father had told him that there were hard times ahead of him, filled with difficult decisions and pain. He’d expected it, prepared for it as much as a child of barely seven years could... but it was so unfair! All the people he’d trusted, the people he’d loved and counted on had died.

Ishaan had been chosen out off those on the council who’d survived, but Chid had always found him to be a distant and intimidating man, prone to staring at him with cold eyes judging eyes. He was not a warm man, but Father had trusted him, that’s why he was on the council. He and the others all had the best interests of Freid in their hearts and Chid had to trust that they were wiser than he was to the ways of the world... but it wasn’t easy, especially now when his heart hut so badly that he was half convinced that it was being cruelly crushed inside his chest. Truly, he’d never felt so alone.

“With all due respect your Highness,” The interloper continued gently. “It’s you I wish to speak with.”

Looking over, Chid saw the captain of the patrol who’d captured the demon. Captain of the leviship ship Bhaagi, Raj Ajun had been recently promoted for his accomplishment to the rank of commodore. His rank sash was so new that Chid could still see the sharp creases from where it had been carefully folded, the blue and white patterns woven into the fabric shone brilliant and fresh. The man held himself somewhat stiffly, still unused to his rank and the privileges they granted him, such as audience with the Duke should he so chose.

Still, despite all of this, the man kneeled humbly at the edge of the small garden, his head bowed low in respect, clearly waiting for Chid’s permission to rise. Unlike many, there wasn’t that sense of arrogance behind the action, as if he was doing little more than humouring the child. Instead, Chid could feel the respect flowing from the man and that above all else caught his attention.

“The fates smile upon you then,” Chid replied with a faint smile of his own, pleased at being shown such deference by an adult. “You are indeed speaking to me.”

“Indeed, my wish has been granted, but I am a greedy man and would ask for more.” Commodore Raj’s voice warmed as he spoke, sensing the playfulness behind the duke’s words.

“You have done a great service to your country and the Faithfull, I shall hear your request.”

“I would ask that you walk with me, give me leave to speak from my heart and listen with open ears.” Chid’s smile faded slightly at the words and the warning within. He wasn’t going to like what the man was going to say, but that was nothing new. So few ever brought him words of happiness and joy these days. It was always tales of famine, disease, despair, and struggle. What was one more sad tale? Besides, because of this man, he was finally going to see justice served for his Father’s death and the desecration of his countries most holy places.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and squared his shoulders, ready to hear whatever dire tidings were to be brought to him and face them like the man he hoped to one day become.

Rather than immediately begin his walk, Commodore Raj looked at the statue of the atlantean and smiled faintly, his left brow twitching slightly as if he was recounting some less than pleasant memory.

“They are not at all what one might expect from Guardians of the Ancients are they?” He murmured softly. “Legends rarely live up to one’s expectations, but I often find myself wondering if it is because they are less than imagined, or if we simply are unable to understand what lay beneath the surface.”

“Monk Jaron said that legends don’t make themselves, that they are created by our hopes and dreams combining together around a story or person. He said that it’s the power of our belief which gives the legend it’s power. Without that, then they are little more than ordinary people doing what they must to survive the extraordinary.” Chid couldn’t help the momentary glow of pride at having remembered that lesson. Having seen legends in the making, he’d always sort of felt that he’d had a part in living out those powerful words.

Raj nodded his head thoughtfully and reached out to carefully to touch the marble wing of the statue, mindful of the sharp thorns of the roses.

“Indeed, Monk Jaron is a wise man. Still, I cannot help but think that despite the soot and ash baked into this statue, that it is no less beautiful. There is something fragile about it now, something vulnerable, reminding us that not even the gods themselves are above change, for better or worse.” He paused for a moment, studying the roses, taking a deep breath to drink in their subtle scent. “Before the fall, this statue was cold and alone. It stood apart from the garden despite it’s inclusion. Now, the garden embraces it, protects it, and in turn, this statue gives the roses purchase to grow.”

“Are you suggesting that what happened here was a good thing?” Chid’s eyes narrowed slightly and he could feel his voice growing colder though the older man appeared to be unmoved. Instead, he took another deep breath of the flower before straightening up and smiling down at the young duke.

“I would accept that walk with you now.” He replied, turning slightly and waiting for Chid to join him. The two walked in silence for nearly a minute, the man shortening his stride so that the young duke didn’t have to rush to keep up despite his much shorter legs.

“I’m not going to forgive him.” Chid spat after the silence grew to be too much for him. Rather than argue, Raj simply smiled slightly and nodded his head.

“Nor should you. He has committed many crimes against this land and it’s people.” The commodore agreed gently, earning himself a confused look.

“But... I thought... what you said about the statue...” Chid was never going to understand adults. They always said one thing but meant another. Why did they have to be so complicated? Everything would be so much simpler if they simply said what they meant.

“A change in circumstance doesn’t absolve one of their past.” The older man replied. “However, if one doesn’t allow for change, then nothing grows and the garden remains as it was. Forever apart. No matter how aesthetically pleasing it might be there will always be an emptiness, and I find that I rather like the roses.” Dark eyes glanced down at the small blonde boy with the wide innocent eyes the colour of the sky, noting the thoughtful look on the youthful face.

“Have you heard how Captain Albatou and his people were captured?: He asked and Chid glanced up at him, pride filling the boy for a moment at the victorious blow his people had struck against their enemy.

“Of course! You captured him!”

“No your Highness.” Raj corrected gently. “I merely took him into custody. I have no doubt that had he truly wished to leave, no power upon my ship would have stopped him.” The man grew silent for a moment, remembering how easily the pale youth had torn through his armed guards and taken over the bridge of his ship. Those wild crimson eyes had stripped him down to his very bones with a glance and found him to be of little threat, but the thought of a Barami ship closing in had caused a near panic in both draconians. The mere thought of pursuit had caused both to risk everything to force an escape and that more than anything had convinced him of their wild tale of kidnapping and torture. Seeing two legendary enemies united in terror had been a rude awakening and the surprises had then begun to stack upon each other, growing grander and more terrifying with every layer until he found his very faith shaken to it’s core.

“He surrendered to King Van as we were disembarking. For a moment, it seemed as if he was going to attack, but his own people fought against him, forcing him to stay his hand. I saw Captain Albatou fighting a dragon, I saw draconian move against draconian and the air itself seemed to crackle with pent up power.

“My commander, Nazeer said that he fully expected to die in those moments, but somehow, as the power reached it’s peak, the fighting stopped and peace fell over them. When Nazeer ordered the captain to surrender, Albatou appeared almost ready to attack, but King Fanel demanded his sword. Without argument, the Crimson Demon of Zaibach handed it over like a tamed hound and followed him onto the ship without incident.

“It was King Fanel who bargained for the people travelling with them, ordering them all to hand over their weapons, trusting their lives to their enemies. None wished this, but all obeyed.”

They walked as Raj talked, slowly making their way to the less inhabited and rebuilt sections of the palace. Here, the marks of the battle were still clearly visible in the burnt and shattered stones. While the bodies had been gathered and given final rights to, there were still marks of their passing everywhere if you knew where to look, and Chid made a point of not looking at anything too closely. He had avoided this section of the castle with all the dedication of a frightened child and even now, he could feel himself shivering in dread as he could imagine the restless dead lurking just beyond the range of his vision, determined to claim revenge against those who’d survived when they had fallen.

“Are you trying to imply with your words that King Van isn’t under that demon’s influence?”

“I imply nothing Your Highness. I merely point out the fact which have been omitted to you.”

“Why should I believe you over the words of my council?” Chid countered, his voice tight with suspicion. “Why should I show compassion to the monster who did all of this?” With an angry gesture he waved his hand towards the carnage surrounding them.

“You should not believe my words alone.” Raj replied gently. “Instead, speak to others who have seen, seek the words of those who have walked alongside them, who have bled, fought and lived the same legend.”

“Is that what you think this is? A legend?” Chid couldn’t quite keep the scorn from his voice as he looked up at the man, his wide eyes narrowing.

“I have felt the power at their command Your Highness.” The commodore all but whispered, his body shivering at the memory of that perfect sense of belonging. That moment of pure bliss and utter intimacy, where he had touched something so pure, so beyond himself that he knew he’d been forever changed by it. Of course, the rude awakening he’d experienced upon laying eyes upon the two surly draconians had been... both humbling and confusing to say the least.

“Two creatures with the power to move a ship and it’s crew across time and space, creatures who think nothing of fighting a dragon with little more than a sword or standing defiant before the very country they’d destroyed were both reduced to panicking children at the thought of an approaching Basram patrol ship.” He allowed himself a thin smile. “Albatou himself has shown no fear nor remorse in facing us despite his crimes against our country and people. Why would he show such terror at the thought of reprisal from Basram?”

They found themselves standing in front of a large hangar which had once housed the Royal Freid Melef’s. The stones were blackened and charred, the windows burned out and one wall had been hastily repaired, but the building itself was still standing defiantly despite the destruction around it.

Only now did Chid realize where they were and he dug his feet into the ground, kicking up small clouds of dust.

“Why are we here? This isn’t safe!” He sputtered, looking around wildly as if expecting an ambush from all sides despite the clear presence of the guards stationed at regular intervals around the building. All of them heavily armed. Two melef units stood ready by the large bay doors just in case the dragon housed inside chose to burst free and run rampant through the city.

“Seeking truth is always a risky undertaking You Highness.” Raj stated gently. “You have given me the walk I requested, the rest is up to you. Do you wish to hear the other side of the tale and see beyond what you’ve been told? Or will you remain a statue in your pristine garden, isolated and pure?”

Chid felt panic well up inside him as his world once again threatened to crumble around him. Why!? Why was it that every time he thought he understood the world, the rules and the way things worked, the rug was yanked out beneath him? He should go get Ishaan, demand answers from him if he wanted them that badly rather than trust himself to Zaibach soldiers who’d obviously managed to somehow warp the mind of one of his countrymen... only... Only, he’d knew that something wasn’t right with what was going on. Even now, he could feel his father watching him, weighing his actions with that fierce pride and those high expectations, demanding that Chid reach them no matter what.

What would his father do in this sort of situation?

Duke Mahad dal Freid had been a wise but stern ruler. He’d led his people with a strong resolve, fierce pride but an open mind. Despite how it had looked, he’d allowed Sir Allen to speak, to have a place in his court. He’d seen the danger represented by Zaibach when no other country acknowledged it, but he’d still treated their prisoner fairly and with honour. He was the man Chid would always aspire to be and with a deep bracing breath, he held his head high and then strode boldly towards the great doors and the men guarding them.

The men standing watch at the doors stiffened to attention at his approach and one stepped forward, his gaze darting nervously between the young duke and the commodore, unsure who he should be speaking to.

“Stand aside.” Chid ordered, taking the decision away from the man, never once slowing his steps, all too aware that if he hesitated, he’d never find the courage to pass through those doors and confront what lay inside. “I would speak to the prisoners.”

“But...” The guard sputtered, struggling between following his orders and keeping the duke from danger. “But none are to speak to the prisoners on the orders of the Regent.”

“This is my castle, built upon the blood and sweat of my ancestors, the hereditary guardians of the Ancients. If I wish to pass through these doors, you will not stop me.” Despite his diminutive size, Chid glared up at the man and felt the brief flare of satisfaction when he and the other guards backed down, bowing deeply in respect. It also didn’t escape his notice how Raj smiled down at him proudly.

Within moments, the great door was opened, just enough to allow the two of them flanked by the guards who didn’t dare let them enter unescorted.

Chid wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see from an enemy encampment. Zaibach flags perhaps, cruel twisted people torturing each other for fun or even monsters masquerading as humans. As far as he was concerned, the people of Zaibach were capable of any and all atrocity. What he found instead was a hangar which had been converted into a comfortable albeit temporary looking camp.

There were small shelters set up in a circle, the leathers and woven cloth of the tents were dyed a variety of greens and browns. Their shapes organic, flowing together in ways which depicted amorphous animals and scenes, some more fanciful than others. One tent was even painted in elaborate whorls and fractal patterns. Th shapes grew and repeated themselves over and over again, forming increasingly dizzying pictures.

Several cook fires had been set up, kept small and well tended, they seemed to be the central focus of the little camp and people, both human and beast kin gathered around them, speaking in strange halting tones. It took Chid several moments to realize that they were speaking astorian, badly accented astorian. Several seconds after that, he realized that the words were being repeated by many voices speaking simple short phrases which seemed to have very little conversational context.

“What are they doing?” He found himself whispering to Raj, unable to tear his eyes away from the strange scene. This wasn’t the army he was expecting. There were women here, and children. So many children, both human and beastkin, all eagerly taking part in the unnatural conversations of the adults, or playing a rather chaotic game of tag. So far, it seemed that no on had noticed them.

“Language classes.” The commodore stated plainly. “They’ve been teaching each other Astorian since they got on the ship. Apparently King Fanel had begun the lessons as they travelled, and they want to impress him with what they’ve learned.”

“Van was teaching them? But... they’re Zaibachi... don’t they hate him?” Chid couldn’t tear his eyes off of the people in font of him. They seemed to normal, so calm despite the deadly situation they were in. None of this made sense!

“Perhaps you should ask them yourself.” Raj stated with a hint of a smile in his voice before switching to astorian. “Hello Irma, Kamata.”

A hot breath blasted across Chid’s body and he spun around to find a land dragon staring at him from only a few feet away! Crying out loudly in shock and terror, the young duke scrambled back, tripping over himself and landing rather ungracefully on his rump. The guards stared in shock, too scared to even raise their swords in their own defence, not that it would have done them much good.

“Hello Commodore Raj.” A woman’s voice spoke and for a moment, Chid honestly believed that the dragon had replied to the man. Instead, the great beast hissed in irritation and there was the sound of the palm of a hand slapping strong scales several times. “You brought a playmate for the children? That’s so kind of you, but you should have warned him of Kamata. The poor boy looks scared out of his wits.” Though Chid wanted to look up and see the speaker, he found that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from those two huge golden eyes which stared into his, staring through him as if he was nothing but a momentary amusement. Suddenly he was very much aware of how a mouse felt in the presence of a cat.

There was the soft sound of scale sliding against scale then a muffled thump of impact. Moments later, a green and brown scaled hand entered into his field of vision, outstretched in offering.

“Kamata, stop scaring him and be nice.” The voice snapped in fond exasperation and the dragon snarled softly. The sound made the hair on the back of the duke’s neck stand on end. “Come young one, have no fear. Kamata feels it and it agitates him. Be at peace here, you only have to fear what darkness you bring with you.”

It was her words which caught his attention more than anything. It was so similar to an ancient atlantean proverb which had been passed down through the ages and often murmured in greeting at the sacred temples that it caused the young duke to shiver.

Finally tearing his gaze away from the dragon, he looked over and saw... another dragon? Only this one was in the shape of a woman. Her body was strong and solidly built but possessed a sinuous grace which would be the envy of any seasoned swordsman. Covered in scales which perfectly matched the dragon she stood beside, they made the loose fitting yet surprisingly finely crafted clothes she wore look superfluous. The bright jewel tones clashed with her dull natural colouring and the fit clearly wasn’t made for her frame though she wore them comfortably enough.

Her face was by far the most stunning, no, that wasn’t the right word... the most shocking. It was as if someone had found a way to mesh human and draconic features together and somehow make it appear natural looking.

Eyes which were too large for her face were twins to those of the beast, right down to her slit pupils and the unnatural intelligence glittering in their depths. It belied the brutish look bestowed upon her by her heavy ridged brow and pronounced muzzle which was unnervingly filled with rather sharp and dangerous looking teeth.

“Hi!” She said brightly, her mouth opening slightly, giving Chid a glimpse of a bright purple tongue. “I’m Irma. It means Sister in Fanelian. This is Kamata, it means Little Brother in Zaibachi... or Moron... it really depends on Father’s mood at the time.” If Chid closed his eyes, he could imagine a nice normal pretty girl speaking to him, perhaps no older than Hitomi and Van. How this poor cursed creature could sound so happy looking as she did was almost mind boggling.

“Did you want help up? You really shouldn’t just sit there on the ground you know, not when we have perfectly good seats by the fire. Are you hungry? We don’t have much, but you’re welcome to eat with us.”

Utterly confused by the welcome, Chid carefully extended his hand until he touched hers, refusing to shrink away from her despite her repulsive appearance.

Almost immediately upon thinking that, he remembered Raj’s words in the garden, about how the statue, even scored by ash and soot was even more beautiful in his eyes because of its imperfections. It made him feel shallow for judging this strange girl by her appearance alone. After all, he hadn’t even introduced himself, but she’d quickly offered him a place by their fire and welcomed him to join in the games of their children.

Her hand was strong, surprisingly firm yet warm, the scales feeling like old worn leather armour and there was something strangely comforting about it. Though each finger was tipped with large and dangerous looking claws, he didn’t feel a single scratch.

“I... I’m Maleen.” He stated, shooting the guards and Raj a quick warning glance. The fake name was a spur of the moment decision and he didn’t fully understand why he was doing something as dishonourable as lying, but deep inside, he didn’t want to ruin this strange welcome by letting them know that he was the one holding their draconian allies. They seemed to think that he was just a regular child and he saw little need to enlighten them, not when he stood to learn more from unguarded conversations. “I’m named after my mother.” He found himself elaborating, smiling shyly.

The dragon woman, Irma opened her mouth slightly again, just enough for Chid to believe that this might be her version of a smile.

“Welcome to our camp then Maleen. We don’t have much to offer, but come and let us share with you.”

“Thank you, you’re too kind.” He replied, a smile of his own tugging at his lips. “I’ve never met a dragon-kin before. I didn’t know that clan existed.”

“They don’t.” Irma replied, not sounding at all put out by the statement. “I’m unique. Part dragon, part draconian and part human.” She sounded almost proud of her strange lineage and Chid could only gape in shock at the statement. “My fathers say that I should be proud of who I am, what I am even when people look at me the way you do.”

Shame once again flooded through Chid as he realized that his revulsion to her appearance must have shown on his face. His cheeks burned hotly and he ducked his head.

“I... I apologize. It was cruel of me to judge you by human appearance... did you say that you’re part draconian!?” He was rather sure that his heart had stopped beating for a moment there in his shock.

Nodding her head, the girl’s back shifted and twisted. To Chid’s horror, two large scaled wings rose up from behind her, only unlike the wings of Van and the demon, these were twisted and stunted. Devoid of feathers, they’d never allow her to fly.

“You don’t need to pity me.” She stated, her voice still surprisingly warm and open despite the pain she must feel inside at his reactions. “Neither of my brothers can fly and I don’t think it lessens them in the slightest.”

“Brothers?” Chid found himself squeaking out the word, confused as to how she could be a unique creature but still have siblings.”

“Yes, Kamata and Ignis.” Her free hand gestured to the dragon, then to the space behind them. Spinning around, the guards and Chid couldn’t quite repress a shocked gasp to find a youth, the same age as the girl standing behind them, cloaked in the shadows.

His skin was a dark rich brown, blending easily with the shadows though his brilliant flame coloured hair stood out beacon bright, seeming to reflect the light of the cook fires as if it was the real thing. Golden yellow eyes, a few shades darker than those of the dragon and girl studied them coolly. Unlike his sister, there was no easy warmth in their depths. Instead, a wary suspicion filled them as they studied the boy, dismissing the guards almost instantly.

Slimmer in build than his sister and finer in feature, he was as handsome as she was hideous. Like her, he was dressed in expensive but ill fitted clothing, confirming that they’d likely been stolen from some wealthy Freid merchant.

“You didn’t come for food.” The youth stated flatly. While he didn’t sound angry or aggressive, there was a noted lack of welcome in his voice and body language. “You kidnap our fathers who came to you in good faith, hold us prisoner when we should be fleeing and now you give us a false name?” An orange tinted brow rose up slightly, the expression on his face was familiar but Chid couldn’t quite place it. “Your skin, your hair, the colour of your eyes.” He continued, stepping forward with almost lazy grace, pausing only when the guards closed ranks, their hands resting on their swords in silent warning. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who you are, Duke Chid dal Freid.”

“Ignis, it doesn’t hurt to be polite and play along. He clearly didn’t want us to know it was him.” Irma snapped gently.

“Then he should have come up with a better disguise.”

“Ignore him Maleen, he’s just angry over our fathers being away for so long. We’re all worried about them. They’re not hurt are they?” She sounded so honestly concerned that Chid couldn’t help but feel a flash of shame at the memory of Van’s anguished cries as he’d learned that the demon had been without food or water for so long.

“Could we see them? We’ve never been apart for this long... it’s worrying, and something feels wrong.” Her large eyes stared into his and the great dragon by her side gave a low rumbling growl, nudging her with his head hard enough to cause her to almost fall over. “I know, I know.” She murmured gently, wrapping an arm around the creatures neck, patting the scales gently.

“We belong together.” Ignis stated from beyond the wall of guards. “We’ve done nothing wrong against you or your people. Please, let us see our fathers.” There was no point in asking who their fathers were. Chid could put two and two together easily enough. He had no idea how that was possible... not that he was really altogether clear on how that sort of thing worked, but he was pretty sure that people couldn’t have kids who were the same age as they were.

“I... I can’t do that.” Chid replied, feeling guilty for the first time since this madness had begun. “King Van is sick... we need to help him.”

“Do you truly believe that Your Highness?” Raj asked gently. It was the first he’d spoken since his initial greeting and Chid shot him a dark and somewhat accusatory glare.

“Yes. Yes I do!” He shot back quickly.

“Please, come to the fire and speak to the elders.” Irma urged gently, giving the dragon a firm shove so it was out of their way. “Rhusha, Haree and Mora have been with our fathers for a while. Antoni, Mala, and Vega can also help, they know them both really well.” None of the names were familiar to Chid though Raj nodded his head in agreement with her words as if he approved of this whole mess.

“Remember Your Highness, just because something is uncomfortable or unpleasant doesn’t mean that it’s not necessary. The sad reality is that truth is rarely comfortable or welcome.” With those words, commodore Raj strode towards the cook fires with familiarity, making Chid wonder just how many times the man had come here to visit the enemy.

 

 

“This is wrong. I will have no part in this.” Monk Jaron’s voice trembled with disgust as he spoke, his dark eyes staring at the pale and wretched figure trembling on the floor at his feet. “This act defiles a sacred ritual. You cannot ask me to do this.”

Chid stiffened at the barely suppressed emotion in the man’s voice. He’d known Monk Jaron all of his life and had always looked up to the man as one of his wisest teachers, but never could he remember ever hearing those tones in his voice before.

Rather than grow upset at the obstinacy of the monk, Regent Ishaan simply shrugged as if this protest had been not only expected, but already accounted for.

“This is justice Jaron. Surely you yourself have not succumbed to the evil of this demon? Has he corrupted you as well?” No! Not Monk Jaron! How did everyone who came in contact with the pale demon become so twisted and confused? First Van, then Commodore Raj and all of those people in the hangar, and now Monk Jaron. It was impossible, but somehow it had happened again and Chid had no way to stop it.

He didn’t know what to believe anymore. Everyone kept telling him different things to believe in and so much of it went against what he’d seen with is own eyes during the war or the dark and terrible tales he’d been told. So many of the reports that had come in from the border temples and villages had left him shivering through the night, too terrified to dare to fall asleep. So many dead, butchered by that monster and his men. Temples burned to the ground, villages razed and their people slaughtered without mercy. No one human could commit such crimes and still call themselves rational beings.

Every life was sacred in Freid, from the worm crawling through the muck to himself sitting upon the throne. All were deserving of life and necessary for the harmony of all. Even the mere idea of killing for food was anathema to his people and any death, no matter how necessary was treated with great solemnity.

He understood that the other countries didn’t share that same devotion and respect for life, but no other country had sought out death with such passion and fervour as Zaibach. That made them monsters. Conscienceless beasts driven mad by power and corruption.

Chid had believed this with all his heart... then he’d walked into that hangar and everything had changed.

He’d spent hours with those people... yes... people. Not demons or monsters, but real people who were struggling to make the best of a bad situation. They’d welcomed him at their fires, shared their food with him and he was sure that despite his fake name, they’d all known who he was.

The children, both wolf and human had invited him to play and it was the first time anyone had ever done so. It had hurt to reject their invitation despite the yawning loneliness inside him. He was a duke, The Duke of Freid and he was here on a mission of great importance. That meant listening to their tales, learning about them and trying to understand why these people were nothing like the stories he’d been told.

They followed the demon! How could they be anything but butchers? But they weren’t. They were just like any other person he might run into across Gaea. All they wanted was to keep their families safe, to be able to settle peacefully and live their lives. They followed the demon and Van because they all honestly believed that the two of them were capable of accomplishing all of that.

Somehow, in a short period of time, the two of them had managed to inspire a deep loyalty in not only the zaibach people, but the beast kin as well.

Over the course of his meal, he’d been regaled with tales of fights against mercenaries and pirates, how the demon and Van had fought to protect the little cubs, even risking their own lives to do so. He’d been told about how they’d escaped Basram on the back of the dragon, dragging those two strange teenagers with them, protecting them with fanatical dedication. Most surprising had been the tale of how Van himself had been the one to strike the chains of the zaibach slaves.

It was so tempting to call them liars, to accuse them of making up these grand tales to win him over, but it was the children and the cubs who convinced him otherwise. They constantly interrupted with little details they felt were important, adding to the tales and painting vivid stories of the strangest partnership he’d ever heard of.

Van’s will wasn’t being held prisoner, he wasn’t some slave to the demon. They argued, they fought and more often than not, Van was the one who eventually got his way.

But if Van wasn’t enslaved by the demon, why was he with him? Why had he kissed him? None of this made sense and Chid desperately wished for the wisdom of his father, or the down to earth practicality of Voris. They’d know what to do!

“This isn’t justice.” Monk Jaron countered, drawing Chid out of his musings and back into the confrontation taking place in front of him. “This is revenge, plain and simple. Worse, you’re perverting our most sacred rituals to achieve it.”

Chid somehow found himself agreeing with the monks protests. This cleansing ritual was one used by monks to purge themselves of impurities. They willingly deprived their bodies of food and water to heighten the effectiveness of the drugs they took in order to achieve a higher state. The prayers they chanted brought insight and clarity and the magic of their faith cleansed their bodies, driving away any taint which had taken hold.

The demon was in no way a willing participant. Even now, he lay supine on the floor in the centre of a large mandala, his arms had been spread apart and chained down, creating a parody of welcome as he faced the answering mandala painted onto the ceiling of the small ritual room. Once shining wings were now dull and limp, several feathers had taken on a ragged appearance and he could see where they’d been scraped raw on rough stone, leaving bloody patches on the delicate feathers.

Gone now was the haughty and confident demon who’d strode into his palace only days ago. Now he was little more than a ragged shadow of himself. Alabaster pale skin was greyed and almost translucent, dark shadows surrounded his half opened yet unseeing eyes and the demon murmured softly to himself nonsensically, clearly not even aware of what was going on around him. Sweat beaded his brow and he looked feverish as he lay there trembling like a newborn kitten. No, this was no longer the creature who featured in so many of the nightmares of his people. This was a weak and defeated beast, struggling and failing against forces far greater than himself.

Long ribbons covered in painted prayers had been wrapped around his body and his wings, binding him in their elaborate patterns and holy symbols had been painted all across his body, ready to be activated by the prayers of the monks who surrounded the bound teenager. They were already praying softly, their voices rising and falling in hypnotic patterns which both soothed and unsettled the young duke.

Chid couldn’t help but look at the far end of the room where a statue of an atlantean woman stood, her wings outstretched above her while her arms were open in welcome towards the figure laying at her feet, accepting his suffering as some sort of offering.

“It’s a pity you feel this way.” Regent Ishaan was saying, his voice sounding almost pleased despite the implications. “Your lack of faith is noted and your services will no longer be required here. Monk Kasib, Monk Sefo, you may begin when you are ready.”

Two figures who had been standing by the door stepped forward, wearing little more than simple loincloths, their bodies were covered in elaborate tattoos similar to the symbols painted on the ribbons binding the pale demon. Neither man so much as glanced at Chid as they stepped in and favoured the Regent with a slight bow. Their eyes were cold and there was something in their depths which made the young duke shiver with growing unease. There was nothing of Monk Jaron’s gentle warmth and wisdom here, only a cold sort of passion which made Chid draw back slightly from their presence.

As if seeing that arguing would be pointless, Monk Jaron simply nodded his head and glanced over at Chid. Deep sorrow had etched itself across the man’s usually serene face and he offered the young duke a gentle smile.

“Come my Duke, you should not see this.”

“On the contrary.” Regent Ishaan cut in coldly, placing a heavy hand on Chid’s shoulder, preventing him from stepping towards the old monk. “It is is duty to see evil purged from this land. After all, it was his father who was defeated by this demon.. He will see justice served.”

“You are so blind Ishaan.” The monk murmured softly, something fierce and angry flickering in the depths of those wrinkled dark eyes which until that moment had always held the hint of gentle smiles. “This is so much bigger than all of us but you fail to see the darkness circling overhead.” Seeing that his words were falling on deaf ears, the monk glanced down at Chid one last time.

“Great actions come from small moments, little acts which reverberate through the oceans of fate like ripples in a pond. They can cause either great ill or great good depending on the intentions behind them. We are poised on such a moment. Choose your actions carefully, but remember that you must act. Standing back and allowing the moment to pass you by is one of the greatest losses to one’s destiny.”

“Leave now Joran.” The regent ordered, then glanced at the two guards standing by the door. “Go with him and ensure that he causes no disruptions.” At least the guards had the decency to look utterly mortified at being told to treat a venerated man such as Monk Joran like a common criminal. Still, they obeyed, offering up no complaint.

Chid desperately wanted to condemn them for their complacency, until he realized that he was just standing there as well, offering no aid or support to the holy man. What could he do? Clenching his fists in impotent frustration, he did his best to ignore the sad look in the eyes of his father which played over and over in the back of his mind. His Father would have done something, said something... he wouldn’t have stood there like some powerless child.

One of the monks, the shorter of the two stepped forward, holding a small flat bowl filled with a milky looking liquid. As he stepped onto the floor’s mandala, the taller monk began praying, his hands wrapped in beads which he rolled around his palms, creating a strange buzzing and ringing sound.

The bowl was brought to the lips of the barely conscious draconian and gently poured into his mouth. Chid watched the muscles of that too pale throat work, swallowing the liquid his body so desperately craved. Something twisted in his stomach at the sight of the sacred being made profane and he understood Monk Jaron’s refusal to perform this ritual. Only monks were supposed to drink that sacred mixture. It was dangerous and reserved for only the most devout, the most holy of rituals.

But... this was a draconian, a child of Atlantis. Who better to drink the holy milk? And in the act of cleansing the demon, didn’t it make this all worth while?

He watched silently as the short monk lowered the demon’s head to the floor and then drew a second bowl filled with brilliant crimson pigment that seemed to almost glow with a pulsing light, brightening and dimming with the rise and fall of the monks chanting. Ground energist, mixed with holy oils to heighten their potency and create a link to Atlantis. Chid had only ever heard about this in stories and it was reserved for only the greatest of Freid’s rituals.

With careful and reverent movements, the monk drew what looked like an open eye on the draconian’s brow, the pupil elongating into a squiggly tail which traced it’s way partly down that long narrow nose.

The instant he pulled his hand away, the symbol blazed with a brilliant light and the demon’s eyes opened wide, shining with the exact same brilliance, so bright that it seemed to swallow his pupils.

Drawing in a deep breath, the pale draconian opened his mouth wide and let out an unearthly shriek of utter agony and terror, his back arching sharply off of the ground until his entire body was supported just by his heels and head. The ribbons wrapped around his body shone brightly as the power within them activated, struggling to hold him still despite his thrashing.

The monks stationed around the mandala chanted louder and more fervently and the two senior monks positioned themselves at the demon’s head and feet, their voices rising and falling loudly in counterpoint.

Ishaan’s hand grew tighter on Chid’s shoulder, gently pulling him back closer to the door, prepared to flee if need be, though the man was unwilling to leave quite yet. Neither of them were and Chid found that he couldn’t pull his eyes off of the struggling figure.

He’d never heard anyone scream like that before. It ate it’s way into his head and his heart, the pure agony of it making him cringe as he struggled to keep from rushing forward and stopping the ritual. It shouldn’t hurt like this should it? This was a cleansing ritual, it was a beautiful thing, meant to bring enlightenment and unburden the soul.

“Stop this...” He murmured softly, his voice practically drowned out by the shrieks and the sound of those powerful wings slamming against the floor repeatedly, shaking enough feathers loose to create what looked like a small snowstorm. “Please stop this.”

If anyone heard him, they paid him no mind.

The air in the room grew colder, so much so that Chid could actually see his breath frost for a few moments with each exhalation. The various wards painted on the walls flared brilliantly, energy sparking along them, tracing across the walls from one symbol to the next until lightning seemed to lick across every available surface.

He could hear distant and muffled rage filled screams and the pressure dropped suddenly, giving the duke the uncanny feeling that something had slammed itself against the walls of the room, desperately seeking entry. Again and again, the wards flared as they fought off whatever dark forces sought to stop the ritual.

A moment, an action... a ripple in the ocean of fate... He could feel the weight of what was taking place around him, sense the gravity of this pivotal moment and knew without a doubt that it would profoundly affect the world from this moment on, but he had no idea what to do.

The monks chants grew louder, more impassioned and as if in challenge to their power, the demon’s shrieks grew in volume and intensity, threatening to shatter eardrums. Those large wings flared out, the feathers spreading out wide and Chid could actually see flickers of light between the plumes as traceries of that same reddish purple light danced across the demon’s body. The ribbons began to smoke and singe along the edges, their symbols flaring brightly as they struggled to bind the power of the being within.

With all the screaming and chanting, he almost didn’t hear the sound of bones snapping...almost. Large eyes grew wider as he stared in horror as the body on the ground began to contort and twist unnaturally. More bones snapped and now he could actually see ligaments and muscles tearing, rearranging themselves into different configurations. The demon’s ribs seemed to snap in several places, caving in on themselves and contracting, crushing the organs within.

The screams took on a higher pitch and fingers tore at the floor, snapping nails as they dug into the stone and wrists bled from the brutal pulling against the chains which held his arms down.

The worst though, and it was a sight which would haunt him for the rest of his days, were the wings. Those beautiful proud wings, the symbol of Atlantis and the heritage of all draconians, darkened. Their dull white feathers greyed, the colour leaching from them before they began to blacken as if burned and a sickly smell filled the room, drowning out the scent of the incense.

Flapping wildly, more feathers were shed, crumbling away into dust upon separation until the formerly majestic limbs were ragged and withered.

“Stop! Stop this!” Chid cried out, trying to rush forward and end this nightmare, but Ishaan grabbed him now with both hands, holding him back. The demon’s screams seemed to reach their peak as he thrashed wildly, his body convulsing violently, barely touching the floor before arching up again, muscles shifting and flowing like water beneath skin as the bones beneath took on a new shape.

“This is necessary!” The Regent snapped coldly. “He’s the enemy, a beast in the guise of our gods! Behold! Justice in all of its power!”

He was wrong though, so wrong and Chid felt his stomach clench at the sight of those once beautiful wings, so powerful and expressive, curl inwards like a dying spider as the last of the feathers fell away, leaving behind blackened husks which crumpled away into ash, covering the floor in a thin dark blanket.

This wasn’t justice.... it wasn’t even revenge. This was torture, plain and simple.

All he could hear were the voices of those lost people around the fire telling him tales of valour about a man he’d thought a monster. All he could see were those earnest golden eyes on an ugly reptilian face asking if her father was alright. All he felt was his father, so proud, so understanding and wise... so utterly against what was taking place in the name of his beloved country.

He’d promised his father that he would never cry again, but tears fell from his eyes as he watched the unfathomable suffering of the figure on the floor.

The feather which hung on it’s chain flickered and flared like a candle in a draft as the demon’s chest swelled, stretching the skin so tight that it looked ready to burst. Its form was smaller now, slimmer and so much frailer in appearance than before. If Chid didn’t know better, he’d say that it was a young woman laying there on the floor.

Wide blue eyes the same colour as his own stared up at the ceiling, blinded by the agony of her body and the shock of the change. She shook violently, her chest rising and falling rapidly in her panic as the once long, loud, and full throated shrieks became broken wails. While the demon had never had the deepest of voices, it sounded nothing like before. This was a uniquely feminine sound and several of the monks stumbled in their prayers as their eyes grew wide, unable to fully comprehend what they were seeing.

“Behold the power of Freid!” The larger monk announced, spreading his arms wide in benediction, radiating pride with every fibre of his being. “Now, to free the Fanelian King from it’s foul influence.” Confident of his victory, the man stepped forward, reaching out a hand to tear away the feather which hung from her neck on its chain of gold, no doubt linking the two draconians together.

At the sound of his voice, those terrified blue eyes suddenly focused as awareness filled the bound creature on the floor. Chid could feel the world holding it’s breath and while the monk continued to extol the power of their combined faith, the young duke realized that this was the calm before the storm.

He could actually see it all play out in slow motion, each moment drawn out in perfect clarity as disaster unfolded around them.

The young woman, for Chid had no doubt that this was exactly what he was looking at, saw the priest standing over her, reaching out towards her aggressively. In panic, she did what any decent woman would do and drew her arms in to cover her naked chest. The action was aborted by the chains still wrapped around her torn and ragged wrists, now slick with blood. It didn’t matter that her hands were now small enough to slip free through them, that moment of restraint, the awareness of utter vulnerability and lingering sense of threat was all she needed.

 

Chid saw the pure innocent terror of a victim shift into pure monstrous rage.

 

The moment to act passed, inaction had won, and left disaster in it’s wake.

 

“DILANDAU!” She screamed, her voice shattering on the last syllable as she threw herself back hard enough to yank her hands free of their chains. The shining white feather which hung between her breasts flared blindingly bright and even from where Chid stood by the door, he could feel the sizzle of power emanating from it.

The ribbons around her body burst into flames, burning her skin as they fell to ash around her, following the same fate as the wings.

Realizing their premature victory, the monks scrambled to resume their chanting, desperate to reinforce the suddenly failing wards as the pressure dropped violently once more, causing a gust of wind to blast through the room, stirring up the dust and ash at their feet into a small cyclone which swirled around the girl as she crouched, low to the ground.

Once again Chid heard the snap and tearing of a body rearranging itself but his gaze remained locked on those eyes, so full of pain and rage, driven to madness by it and then pushed beyond. Azure blue bled into glowing crimson, lit from within by an inhuman light. It was the same energist light as the symbol with appeared once again on the demon’s brow only this time, it made the duke shiver in dread.

Reddish purple lightning crackled around the body of the demon as the pressure in the room grew. There was a terrible tearing sound, like wet leather shredding beneath claws and two huge wings burst forth in a bloody spray from the demon’s back. Blood splashed across the room and Chid felt several hot drops strike him, almost burning him with their heat, but he barely noticed in his horror.

Rather than the beautiful pristine wings which shone with a light of their own, these wings were black as pitch, drinking in the light around them and snuffing it out. They were a darkness you could feel, and as those wild, crazed bloodred eyes met Chid’s, he realized that what they’d dealt with before hadn’t been a demon at all.

 

This was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah.... Freid done and gone fucked up good. Trying to pull apart Madoushi magic really wasn't the best way to go about things. Well, now they have a very very angry Dilandau to deal with and him sporting inky black wings likely isn't a good sign. It's really not a good year for Freid.  
> You gotta love the roses. Guimel would be so happy to know that they're being appreciated.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter!: Dilandau expresses his profound displeasure


	19. A Little Matter of Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dilandau expresses his displeasure over his treatment in Freid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... so....They sort of stepped in it now. Well, I'm sure that Dilandau will be perfectly reasonable and all that... Sorry this took so long to update, I got distracted by drawing some of the scenes from Dragon in the Ashes as a comic which will be posted soon on Tumblr. Hope you guys like them, and please, feel free to request pics you'd like to see.  
> Now, on with the show....

 

The hair on Chid’s head stood on end as power sizzled and crackled around the room causing the very air to spark alarmingly. They stood at the heart of a terrible storm which tore at the walls around them like a wild thing. Fierce winds whipped about, shearing layer upon layer of stone away as it sought to break free from the confines of the room, causing everyone inside to struggle to remain standing, shielding their faces with their hands, desperate to minimize the damage as tiny stones scoured their skin raw even as their robes were shredded.

Lightning flashed from one failing ward to the next, struggling to contain the wild energy and failing as the pressure continued to grow. One after another, they burst into blue flames, eating into the stones they’d been carved into like acid, chewing away at their defences.

This was all his fault, Chid knew this to the very bottom of his heart. Monk Joran had warned him of the cost of inaction and yet he’d stood there, knowing that what was happening was wrong and doing nothing to stop it. In their premature victory, they’d unleashed an even greater evil upon the world and all Chid could do was desperately pray that they somehow managed to keep it locked in here with them. No one else should pay for their arrogance. _Please_ , he prayed to the Ancients, knowing fully well that they were all too likely to ignore him after his terrible crime against one of their own. _Please save my people. It if takes my life, so be it, but let them stay safe._

“CONTAIN THE DEMON!” The taller monk shrieked above the cacophony of the storm. “Do not let the beast win! We can kill it!” Foam flecked the man’s lips and his eyes were wide, too wide. Chid could see tendons standing out beneath the man’s skin as he strained against some terrible invisible force.

Beside him, one of the monks coughed, stumbling over the words of his chant. Blood sprayed from the man’s lips, glowing with a strange light which mirrored those terrible demonic eyes and the symbol painted on it’s brow.

Trembling in terror, the man began to convulse even as he clutched harder at his prayer beads, rolling them together in is palms as if the friction could somehow keep the inevitable at bay.

Still the power built up around them, threatening to crush them all with it’s weight, making it nearly impossible to breathe and Chid could feel his head spinning as dark spots danced on the edge of his vision.

“Please” he continued to pray. “Just us. Let it stop with us. I’m so sorry, Ancients forgive me and let it stop with-” Something shoved him sharply from behind, sending him tumbling to the floor at the feet of the demon. The unexpected attack left the young duke stunned, interrupting his desperate prayer as pain flared up from his knees where they’d scraped themselves bloody on the stones.

“Take him!” Regent Ishaan yelled out, backing away as quickly as he could towards the door. “He’s the one you want! Claim your revenge and leave us in peace demon!” The man ducked through the heavy door, slamming it shut on his final words, locking them all inside with death.

Chid wanted to feel betrayed by the cowardly act, but instead he closed his eyes and lowered his head, accepting the inevitable. It fit, he supposed. He did deserve this. He should have acted, should have spoken up and done something, anything. He was the duke, the leader of his people and in his inaction, he’d allowed the unthinkable to happen.

Still, there was a part of him which ranted and screamed at him to get back up to his feet, to fight for every second of life he had left, no matter how fleeting. He had to fight for his people! Fight for his country! What did it matter that he was just a child, that his council preferred to listen to themselves rather than his tiny voice. His blood had founded this country, defended it and had guarded it since time unremembered! It was his duty to protect this land and those within it! That wasn’t something he could do if he was dead!

Resolution filled him, forcing him back up to his feet despite the pain of his bruises and the knowledge that this could very well be his last act on this earth. Hardening his eyes, he looked up at the demon raging in front of him, staring into those glowing mad eyes and thinking for just a moment in a sort of detached awareness that they were strikingly beautiful, like active drag-energist lit up from within by a frightening intelligence.

“I am Duke Chid dal Freid.” He ground out despite the growing pressure which threatened to crush his lungs with every breath he drew. “I stand as guardian to these lands and leader of my people! Face me demon for you shall not pas-” The last word of his challenge didn’t quite make it past his lips before those huge light devouring wings lashed out, the feathers spreading wide as a wall of power slammed into the young duke, sending him flying across the room. Hitting the far wall, Chid was out cold before his mind even registered what had happened, leaving him drowning in darkness.

 

_Feast with us young one. Feast on the bones of the world and fly in our darkness forever._

Van sat up in the bed, those terrible whispers sliding through the air around him, just on the edge of his hearing, easily ignored if it weren’t for the horrible sense of foreboding which oozed around them in a foul miasma.

One of his hands clutched tightly at the feather around his neck with the other reached out into the air as if to grab onto something just beyond his reach.

For a moment he’d seen Dilandau, reaching out to him, trusting in his bravely spoken promise, begging him to save him... then nothing. Just an empty room waiting for him and a hollow feeling in his heart.

The pendant around his neck flared brilliantly, as if lit from within by a small sun and to Van’s horror, a low ominous rumble seemed to shiver through the castle walls. He felt the icy tingle of familiar energy scintillating along his skin and the feather between his fingers suddenly became so cold that it burned him.

Gasping loudly, Van looked down and felt something deep inside his soul begin to scream as he saw how the once brilliant and shining white feather was now black at pitch.

 

Commodore Raj Arjuun considered himself to be a rather perceptive man, one who noticed the subtle shifts in mood of those around him. More importantly, he was a man who was intelligent enough to put together all of the little clues people revealed about themselves and quickly drew them all together to form a much larger picture.

It always sort of amazed him that more people weren’t perceptive enough to realize when things simply weren’t as they seemed on the surface. Be it draconian warlords seeking solace in the lands they’d previously put to the torch, or kings of distant countries speaking for a former nemesis and their rag tag army. Most men would have simply washed their hands of the situation, happily taking the reward and escaping with their skin and honour intact.

Commodore Raj Arjuun was not most men.

He heaved a rather heavy sigh as he looked down at the bodies of the two guards who had been put in charge of watching the prisoners. They’d awaken in a few hours time with a terrible headache and somewhat upset stomach, but otherwise unharmed.

While he might be fully prepared to spit on the face of his honour and commit treason against his country, he still held their faith close to his heart and the idea of killing another outside of war was simply more than he was willing to endure. There was enough blood on his hands, no need to add to it.

Pity his countrymen couldn’t say the same.

He’d done what he could. Spoken to those who might listen, attempted to sway their beliefs, reminding them that there was far more at stake here than mere pride.

Less than an hour ago, Monk Joran has approached him with vague words and insinuations. It was time to choose what was more important to him, the lives of innocents, or his own honour.

And so for the second time today, he found himself slipping into the converted prison and approaching the cooking fires housed in it’s centre. No one challenged him or interrupted his approach. Instead, they all watched him silently, their eyes filled with the hope for good news, though knowing the latter was far more likely.

He wasn’t surprised in the least to see that the camp had been taken down and the bags packed away on various contraptions. The clan and company was ready to move at a moment’s notice, alerted by the same awareness he himself possessed. Though, seeing as how they travelled so freely with Children of Atlantis, perhaps they had other senses to rely on.

“He said they wouldn’t hurt him.” The dragon girl, Irma whispered in the darkness, her golden eyes shining in the firelight, matched by the much larger eyes of the great beast she leaned against. Something hard flashed behind both sets of eyes, primal and predatory, warning that both girl and beast would seek revenge for the wrong against their loved one.

“I told you we couldn’t trust him.” Ignis replied. “Father was right, we should have attacked.”

“If risks are never taken, nothing is ever gained.” He replied to them both, keeping his voice calm and his heart steady, knowing that the dragon and the girl would react badly to any negative emotions on his part. This was of course more easily said than done, but he held their gazes until one of the zaibachi prisoners approached.

It was the tall red haired man, Lieutenant Antoni, and those cold ice blue eyes of his studied Raj for a long moment before he crossed his arms over his chest.

“How long do we have before they come for us?” He asked, cutting straight to the point. Unlike the other two, his Astorian was more clipped and harsh sounding, but Raj had quickly grown accustomed to the zaibachi accent. This was a good thing because they couldn’t allow for any misunderstandings if they all wished to survive.

“Not long enough. It’s a good thing you already appear to be packed because we need to leave immediately. Is everyone fit for travel?”

“The rest has done us good all things considered.” Lieutenant Malla strode over, inserting herself into the conversation smoothly. “We’ll walk on broken legs through the jungle if it will get us away from here, but we’re not leaving without the Captain or the King.”

“Agreed.” Antoni nodded his head, pale eyes narrowing dangerously as he looked at Raj. “I trust you have a path planned out to your leviship. Is it armed? We can create a distraction while one of us slips in and frees them.”

Well, that part hadn’t been in his plan. Sensible people would have run given the opportunity. It seemed that the Zaibach people were not given to sensibility, at least not when their leaders were being held prisoner.

“Nakahi and Van are fully capable to rescuing themselves.” Rushah cut in from his place by the fire. Behind him, the beast clan and zaibachi were quickly taking down the last of the tents with brusque efficiency. “It is our duty to ensure that we do not impede them.”

“It’s our duty to rescue and protect our superior officers!” Antoni snapped back hotly, his temper likely not helped by the look of weary amusement on the beastkin’s face.

“In battle yes. In situations such as this, it is your duty to not be used as leverage against your leaders. Nakahi understands this and will expect you to do the same.”

“Do not presume to understand the mind of a Zaibachi warlord!”

“Why do you think Captain Albatou allowed himself to be captured?” Raj interjected, disliking wasting even a single second bickering when they could be escaping. “He did so to ensure that none of you were harmed. He made his choice and it’s up to all of you to either respect it or challenge him for leadership.”

That statement seemed to cause a ripple of shock to pass through the assembled zaibachi and Antoni stiffened as if he’d been slapped.

“He’s right.” Irma spoke up, her voice tight with anger though resolute. “Father said that it was our duty to protect each other. He said that one day we’d be able to protect him and Dad, but not yet. We’re not strong enough. So we run. We follow his last order and keep each other safe from harm.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously and the dragon at her side hissed softly, the sound counterpointed by the scrape of a barbed tail against the floor. “And if they’ve hurt either of them, we’ll see this country razed to the ground.”

Sweet wings of the Ancients, he did not want to cross this young woman ever.

“Agreed.” Ignis cast his vote in his soft calm voice, though his eyes burned just as brightly as his sister’s. “Father would kill us if we got hurt trying to rescue him.”

Raj nodded his head, relieved that if nothing else, the siblings were in agreement with him. With them won over, the others would follow.

“Fine, but we’ll hold position just outside of Godashim.” Antoni finally relented. “If... When they make it out of the city, I intend for us to be on hand to lend any aid required.”

Raj nodded his head, pleased that they’d seen the wisdom in retreat. He’d set a course for Fanelia, it would already be assumed that this was their destination after all, then quickly double back and wait. He had no doubt that when the two Children of Atlantis did escape, there would be nothing subtle about it... and for that, he inwardly wept for his countrymen.

 

 

The room was dark and terribly cold. It was an unnatural chill, so much so that Chid could actually see his breath fog slightly with each exhalation. Granted, there was a moment of utter shock at realizing that he was still breathing which mean that he was still alive. Had the demon spared him? If so, why? Neither question filled the young duke with any sort of relief. In fact, they made him even more afraid and he found himself quietly studying the room, trying to figure out what had happened during the time he’d been unconscious.

The wards on the walls still burned with an unholy blue fire, providing the room with it’s only light source. Where the flames didn’t pierce with their light, the darkness was absolute, but Chid knew that it wasn’t empty despite the oppressive silence. Something still lurked inside the room with him.

“We came to you in good faith.” The voice whispered from the shadows and Chid turned his head a fraction of an inch, then gasped in shock, trying to pull away despite the still rather solid wall behind him. Inches from his face were two glowing eyes. Pitiless, merciless and shining with unholy madness, the young duke did his best to keep from screaming in horror, choking it back to little more than a soft whimper.

Tears of energist light traced their way down the demon’s cheeks, as if the power within his slender body could no longer be contained forcing it to leak through much like cracks in a failing dam.

“Van trusted you, he believed in your honour enough to risk us all on that fragile faith.” Chid couldn’t see the face of the demon, just those eyes, that brand and those eerie tears. Still, there was no mistaking the scorn and contempt in that soft voice. “But you just stood there and let them take me apart. You’re no different from the others. Watching me suffer, smug in your superiority as you watch me die. You take everything away from me, leaving me alone in the darkness and you call it a victory.” Those eyes narrowed dangerously and the blue flames around the room flared brilliantly, allowing Chid to see what had become of the others.

The monks were frozen in their positions around the mandala. Some still clutched at their beads while others were caught in the act of turning to flee, but all of their faces were filled with horror as they realized their final moments were upon them.

Where once they had been flesh and blood, their bodies were now black glass. Every detail had been frozen perfectly in place, every fold of their robes, even the tiny wrinkles on their faces. No sculptor could ever come close to something so perfectly lifelike and Chid couldn’t help but remember the statue in the garden and wonder if this was some strange symmetry at work.

“You killed them.” He murmured softly despite his mounting horror. Revulsion filled him, curling his lip in disgust as he stared at the remains of so many lives, cut brutally short. His fault... all his fault... he deserved this. The realization didn’t help ease the pain at all, nor did the cold cruel chuckle of the demon who pulled back just enough for Chid to finally make out those fine features, twisted into a look of cruel malice.

“Kill them? Oh no little duke. I want to show you how much better I am than you.” The demon sneered. “They’re very much alive, though likely begging for oblivion now.” Another malicious giggle worked it’s way past those grinning lips as Chid found himself staring at the large monk, the one who’d reached for the feather pendant.

The man still stood tall and proud, his hands held together around his beads and his mouth half open in mid chant. The black glass of his body gleamed dully in the light of the fire, but the longer Chid looked, the more he could see an answering glow pulsing in the chest of the statue.

Large blue eyes widened in horror as his brain began to register what he was seeing. A heart, still beating away deep within it’s glass tomb.

“They wanted my death so badly that threw away all of their sacred teachings and ideals. Despite all of this, it seems that Fate decided to have mercy on them. They will live, safe and secure in their little tombs of glass forever and ever. They should thank me really, now they can contemplate the foolishness of their actions for all time.”

“Y.... you monster.” All he could do was gasp out those words as his world spun out of control. No... oh Ancients, this shouldn’t be possible, this couldn’t be happening! There had to be a way to stop it!

“I warned you didn’t I?” The demon purred softly. “You wanted to be the hero and make me the monster. Well draconians are all about granting wishes. How do you like yours?”

“I wish you were dead!”

“Oh I know you do. I can feel it all around me. With every breath I take, I can feel your desire for my death, and why shouldn’t I be dead? Everything I loved died here. This land took it all away.” More glowing tears fell from those terrible eyes and Chid willed himself to hold their gaze, refusing to back down in his final moments.

“You had your wish you know. Your monks tore my soul apart. They unmade me with their pure and pious faith. I felt all of it. Does that make you feel vindicated? The agony of my body changing, the severing of my soul, the destruction of my wings.”

Reaching out a hand, the demon lightly stroked the tip of a shadow sheathed finger along Chid’s cheek, mirroring the scar which marked the beasts face. His touch was so cold that it burned, leaving a faint red lie of lightly blistering skin in it’s wake. A gentle smile tugged at the pale lips of the demon, but something about it caused the hair on the back of the duke’s neck to rise up in warning.

“I trusted in your honour. I trusted that you’d be different from my Masters. You were the good guys, the supposed heroes, and I was at your mercy.” The finger ceased it’s gentle stroking and now the hand gripped Chid’s jaw tightly, preventing him from turning his head and looking away. Those glowing eyes hardened as the energy in the room crackled around them.

“You wanted to see me die so badly, so I’ll grant you your wish. If death is what you want to see, then you shall see it wherever you look. Your eyes shall watch the final moments of everyone you meet and you will be powerless to stop the inevitable.”

Terrified, Chid struggled to pull away but the grip grew tight enough to cause the bones in his jaw to creak. All he could do was stare into those inhuman eyes, feeling the power of the curse flow into him, unable to do anything to prevent it.

A cold icy pressure built up behind his eyes, blurring his vision as the energist glow ate into him. A powerful wave of vertigo washed through him and he wanted to be sick to his stomach, but still he couldn’t pull away.

“I... I’m sorry.” He murmured softly, the words barely audible despite the sepulchral silence of the room.

“No you’re not.” The demon purred softly. “But you will be.” The iron grip holding him prisoner suddenly was gone and in his shock, Chid nearly fell over. Shooting to his feet, the duke began scrambling towards the door, not sure if he was planning to block it with his body, or run as if his life depended on it.

As if reading his thoughts, the demon shifted slightly in it’s crouch, those dark wings flexing slightly, preparing to take flight and that twisted vicious grin grew even wider.

“Run quickly little Duke. You have so much death to see, but don’t worry. Yours won’t be among them. No, you will live for many years surrounded by a perpetual graveyard, unable to escape until you yourself walk the paths of the dead.”

The power continued to build within the room and Chid knew that if he didn’t leave now, he likely never would. Still, better to die here, holding a monster at bay than run and allow his country to fall. Of course, that sounded all well and good in his head, but how exactly was he supposed to stop a demon? He wasn’t a holy monk, he had no weapons or special powers. All he was, was a child who’d made a terrible mistake and now had to pay for it.

Wait... he did have a weapon. The only thing that could stand against an Atlantean was another Atlantean! Van! Van could stop him! Hadn’t Van always stopped him before? Hadn’t he surrendered to Van before being brought here? Yes! He needed the Fanelian king’s aid!

It galled him to run, but he knew that he had no other option. Cursing himself silently, the duke spun on his heel and raced out of the room as quickly as his little legs could carry him.

“Run you little coward.” The demon chuckled in the darkness of the room, its voice carrying despite the distance. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good hunt.”

Doing his best to ignore the taunts no matter how deeply they cut, Chid ran, nearly blinded by the tears falling from his cursed eyes. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. The words repeated themselves over and over in his head until they became empty sounds, devoid of meaning and the thought of that nearly made the young duke laugh in hysteria.

In his panic, he didn’t even see the guards until he slammed into them.

“Sound the alarm!” He gasped out, looking up at the two stunned men who’d been heading down the hallway, swords drawn. Likely Ishaan had already warned them that something had gone wrong. He just likely had no idea how wrong it truly was.

Even as he said the words, his voice broke into a scream of shock as the nearest guard’s throat was torn open in a bright gout of crimson blood. Dark eyes rolled back in their sockets, but before the dying man could even register what had happened, the second guards chest opened up from groin to throat, spilling out his innards in long bloody coils which fell to the floor at his feet. A second slice exasperated the damage, opening up the rest of the man’s belly before he fell to the floor atop the pile of steaming organs, his body twitching and convulsing as he struggled to draw in the breath to scream.

“Your Highness?” The first guard asked, reaching out a hand in concern, his throat still intact and his eyes full of concern. “Your Highness, what happened? The prisoners, the Beastmen and the zaibachi have escaped! We’re still trying to figure out what happened and now the Regent said that the demon was attacking the monks!”

“The monks are dead!” Chid yelled, wishing desperately that this was true. “The prisoner... the demon is loose. Sound the alarm but do not attack him without reinforcements! Please! You’ll die if you do!” He couldn’t get the image out of his head of these two men dying. There’s been so much blood! He’d never seen so much blood in his life and it sickened him to realize that he was likely going to see a great deal more of it before he found a way to lift this curse.

“And the other prisoners sire?” The guard pressed, concern colouring his voice despite the stress of the situation. “Shall we dispatch the fleet to recapture them?”

“No! They don’t matter. Let them leave! We need to stop the demon or everything is lost!”

Unable to stand being there any longer, Chid raced past the two guards, praying that they listened to him though he’d already seen that they wouldn’t. Their deaths weighed heavily on his soul, but he knew that if he didn’t get Van as quickly as possible, more would die.

He passed two more patrols plus three men guarding the doors leading down to the dungeons. Though he’d only glanced at them quickly, he saw two of them crumple to the ground, one from a slice across his throat while the second received a neat stab through the heart from a sword. It was a freid sword, though he was positive he knew the hands that wielded it. Another of the guards eyes were sliced, blinding him in a wash of blood before his belly was opened up. Rather than a quick death like the others, Chid saw him crawling along the floor, one hand clutching at his ruined guts while the other dragged him along. He called futilely for help with his fading strength, but either no one heard, or no one was able to come. The duke watched powerlessly as the man died from the shock and blood loss.

Sobbing loudly, Chid ran passed them, covering his eyes with his hands, desperate to keep from having to see more death, but he had to see where he was going and for that he had to look.

A serving girl thrown against the wall hard enough to crush her skull against the stones, An older guard choking to death, clutching at his throat as he struggled to draw in air. Two more guards cut down by what looked like crima claws, the list was unending and by the time he made it up to the tower where Van was held, he was shaking so hard that he could barely stand.

He could hear the Fanelian king long before he even saw the doors to his rooms. Van was screaming so loudly that for a moment, Chid was worried that he too was dying. No! He couldn’t die! Not now, not when the safety of his country was on the line! So many people were going to die, or were dead already. Why couldn’t he hear the alarm? Were all the guards dead?

“VAN!” The name was more of a sob as Chid practically threw himself at the door, much to the shock of the two guards positioned next to it.

“Your Highness!” One of them gasped out. Chid wasn’t sure which one it was, he refused to look up, unable to handle seeing anymore death if he could avoid it. “Your Highness, the prisoner just went berserk about half an hour ago. He’s been throwing himself against the door since then. We tried to calm him down, but the instant we opened the door, he attacked us and tried to escape. We barely got the door shut in time!”

“That doesn’t matter!” The duke all but yelled at them while inwardly he was shrieking. Van knew! Somehow he knew what had happened and he was likely going to curse him too! “Sound the alarm! The prisoner has escaped! Take him alive! Please, please don’t kill him! Keep the demon contained!”

Judging by their offended gasps, they were shocked that such a stipulation had even been necessary to add, but Chid knew better than they did just how deadly the demon was. Still, trying to kill the beast once had put them in this situation in the first place. He wasn’t going to risk it again.

“We can’t leave you alone with the prisoner sire. It’s not safe.” One of the guards stated, stepping closer, likely reaching out a hand to offer aid to the distraught duke, but Chid dodged out of the way nimbly.

“I gave you an order! Protect the palace!” He yelled at the startled guards and was relieved to see them back up several steps then shifting their weight just enough to give the impression of bowing to him, though Chid couldn’t be sure. He still refused to look at anything but the floor.

Only when he heard their footsteps heading down the stairs did he grab the heavy bar that kept the door barred and lifted it. As if sensing his presence, a heavy impact slammed against the other side of the door, causing Chid to drop his unwieldy load back into place.

“LET ME OUT!!! YOU’RE KILLING HIM!” Van shrieked and Chid could actually hear him clawing at the door in desperation before slamming into it once more.

He didn’t want to do this. Really REALLY didn’t want to do this. Facing one furious draconian was bad enough, but two? Still, this was his fault and in the end, his responsibility. Taking a deep breath, he reached up and lifted the heavy brace from the door, nearly falling over backwards at its awkward weight.

The instant the bar had cleared the braces, Van slammed himself against the door hard enough to fling it open, sending himself hurtling into Chid as they both tumbled to the floor in an ungainly heap. All the duke could do was clench his eyes shut as tightly as he could and do his best to protect his head from hitting the hard stone floor.

Before he’d even finished rolling, strong hands grabbed Chid and shook him hard enough to cause his teeth to rattle in his skull. The effect was more than a little terrifying all things considered, made even more so by him being unable to look at his attacker.

“WHERE IS HE!?” Van was close enough that Chid could feel the king’s breath on his face and the emotion behind those words was heart wrenching. “What did you do to him!?”

“I....I...” It was hard to think let alone speak what with all the shaking.

“Look at me damn you!” Another sharp shake left Chid wanting to throw up.

“I can’t!” He ground out through gritted teeth, his eyes clenched shut so tightly that he was actually seeing stars behind his lids. “If I look at you, I’ll see you die!” There was a huff of utter irritation, followed by a soft snarl as Van shoved him away.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense. Where is Dilandau, Chid!?” A hand once again grabbed him roughly, nearly lifting him up off the ground, causing the young duke to grit his teeth in order to keep from crying out in fear. “Where is he?!”

“Down in the dungeons!” Chid shot back, feeling the hot wet trails of tears sliding down his cheeks. “Slaughtering everyone down there. I saw them die! Every single person I met as I ran.” The grip didn’t loosen in the last, in fact, it was quickly growing harder to breathe. “I saw them die over and over again and I know he did it!” Van however wasn’t feeling particularly generous towards the young duke, especially since he’d lived through that identical scenario during the entirety of the damn war.

An ominous rumble seemed to ripple through the castle, causing the floor to tremble in a rather alarming fashion. Swearing loudly, Van grabbed onto the back of Chid’s shirt and began to run, taking the stairs two at a time. The duke stumbled along after him, focused more on keeping his feet under him than in offering any further explanations.

This left Van with the questionable blessing of being able to think of what had transpired down below in the bowels of the castle. Dilandau had surrendered willingly, he mused. Aside from the reported nightmares, which as far as Van was concerned, were wholly expected at this point, the dragonslayer had been showing rather exemplary behaviour. Something had set him off, something which had caused those waves of terror and agony to tear their way through him despite the distance between the two. Even as he ran, Van’s hand reached up as if on it’s own volition and tightly clutched the gleaming black feather hanging from his neck.

“And what did you do to him?!” The dark king snarled, forcing himself to continue racing ahead, knowing full well that if he so much as looked at the duke, He’d likely push the kid down the stairs in his fury.

Despite this, Chid cloud clearly hear the hissing whisper of feathers sliding across each other and knew that those great shining wings were spreading out like an angry hawk’s.

“I could hear him screaming.” Van continued bitterly, speaking through gritted teeth. “I felt what you did to him and now look at this! Look at his feather and tell me that you didn’t do something terrible to him!” Not even the predations of the Madoushi had caused such a reaction, and that’s what scared Van more than anything. What could be worse than Shroden’s foul attentions, and how could one of his closest allies have caused it?

“I didn’t know this would happen!” The duke screamed back, the stress, the terror and the curse coiling around inside him was all suddenly too much to bear and he dissolved into horrible soul wrenching sobs. “I wanted to stop them! I really did!” But he’d wanted revenge more. There really was no point in lying to himself about it seeing as how he was likely going to be living with his choices... or lack thereof for the rest of his life.

Once again, his words fell on wholly unsympathetic ears.

“Why didn’t you! You’re the damn Duke here Chid!!” The two of them burst out through the tower doors and into the palace proper just as another tremor rumbled ominously up from below. It was enough to distract the guards on watch, nearly causing them all to barrel into each other, but the king and duke were barely aware of their presence as they raced past.

“I’m a child Van!” Chid was busy yelling, only dimly aware of how the two men suddenly crumpled to the floor, their bodies ripped nearly in half by what appeared to be a guymlef sword. Bile rose up in his throat but he choked it down as he ran, deeply thankful that at least he hadn’t seen the men’s faces. That made it all marginally easier.

They dodged through various rooms and hallways, ignoring the startled gasps of servants or the frantic hurrying nobles who were doing their best to exit the suddenly less than stable palace. Chid prayed with each breath that the painful accusations were over, but he’d underestimated the fanelian king’s stubbornness.

“In the eyes of practically every country on Gaea, this one included, I’m still considered a child too. So is he, and that didn’t stop you from sentencing him to death.” Those strong hands tugged him roughly forward and for a moment, Chid wanted to dig in his heels and resist, to fight back for once in his short life, if only to stop the hurtful words.

_Wisdom comes in many forms._ Monk Jaron had told him more than once. _Oftentimes we fail to learn the lessons the Ancients have left to teach us, but if you train your heart to hear what your ears cannot, then you will experience untold_ _enlightenment_.

He’d had an actual draconian warn him about the perils of seeking revenge and hadn’t listened. Now another was driving home that very lesson. It would likely be wise to listen this time. While he was sure that Van wouldn’t curse him, he had to admit that he’d never seen the king so furious before. It made the normally quiet and soft spoken king more than a little terrifying, and that was before adding in the wings and mystical semi divine legacy.

“I was younger than you when the weight of my kingdom was placed on my shoulders.” Van continued, tugging Chid roughly around a sharp corner and neatly dodging another set of guards who were already en route to the very place they were heading.

Though he still listened, Chid did his best to wave the guards back without looking at them. If they approached the demon, they’d die and it was bad enough seeing people die in visions. He couldn’t handle knowing it was actually happening.

“Folken had died on his hunt and my mother vanished, leaving me alone when I was five years old. I know exactly what it’s like to be a child with the lives of a country in your hands, but I can confidently say that I never ordered the death of someone who had come to me under a banner of truce!”

This time Chid couldn’t quite hide the wince as he felt the hot surge of shame press down on him. No, Van likely never had done anything like that and he knew for sure that his father would never have condoned such actions. The monks were right, evil was a foul corruption which spread like a wildfire as soon as it found it’s way into your soul. Even the best of intentions grew twisted and dark.

“I... I’m sorry.” He murmured softly, struggling not to trip over his own feet as he struggled to match Van’s much longer stride while half blinded by tears.

“Sorry because you did it? Or sorry because it didn’t turn out the way you wanted?” There was no answer he could give that would be accepted or even believed, not now after everything he’d said. All he could do was race along, half blind and being dragged by the man he thought of as a hero and had woefully betrayed, even if it hadn’t been intentional.

“You don’t get it do you Chid?” Van asked after several moments of tense silence. “I love him. I promised him that I’d keep him safe, that I wouldn’t let anyone else hurt him. He trusted me. He put his life in my hands and I let him get put right back into the same situation he’d just escaped from.” The pain in those words was palpable and Chid was suddenly almost glad that he couldn’t look at the king. Seeing the grief on that normally confident face was more than he was sure he could handle, especially knowing that he was the cause of it. “He’s never going to trust me again.”

“Can you stop him?” It felt wrong to ask this after that confession, but he had to know if this was just a fruitless effort or not. As if in answer, another ominous rumble rippled through the palace and Chid nearly stumbled as the floor seemed to shift beneath his feet. Risking opening his eyes a little more, he barely managed to avoid a planter which had fallen over, partially obstructing the hallway.

Rather than answer immediately, Van adjusted his stride to allow Chid to move around the downed plant. Another strange wave of vertigo washed through him, causing him to wobble alarmingly despite his wings flaring out sharply for balance. It was getting worse, as was the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. Was Dilandau draining him through that bond that Momma had talked about? Was he somehow recreating that horror from the labs? Oh sweet Gaea, Van hoped not, though honestly, he couldn’t blame the dragonslayer if that was the case. He had to be terrified and convinced that even Van had finally forsaken him.

It was a miracle really that the Dragonslayers weren’t tearing their way through the palace, dragging every freidian they could find kicking and screaming into the Paths of the Dead. Of course, he really shouldn’t be giving Fate any ideas. It seemed to take some sort of perverse enjoyment out of coming up with worst case scenarios for him.

Of course, it really shouldn’t have come as any surprise when a loud explosion shook the palace, causing both boys to stumble. Screams could be heard now and the air practically buzzed with energy, causing sparks to dance along Van’s wings. The vertigo was growing worse, causing his head to spin alarmingly.

A few secondary crashes rocked the castle as something gave way from the initial blast and not even Van could resist a somewhat nervous swallow. Could he stop Dilandau when he was this far gone?

“I suppose we’re going to find out.” He murmured out loud to himself before turning to look down at Chid’s trembling figure, noting that the boy still refused to look at either him or the guards milling nervously around them. “You should stay here.” He cautioned, only belatedly realizing that he still held the boy’s tunic in a death grip. Quickly releasing his captive, Van took a half step back, more than a little surprised that no one had even though to pull him off the boy. While he might still be furious at the young duke, he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to drag him into death.

“I’m going with you.” Chid replied, though the look on his face practically screamed that he’d rather do the exact opposite of his words. “He won’t kill me.” He continued, his voice growing softer but oddly enough, more resolute with every word. “He’s already punished me with something worse than that.” Tears dampened the boy’s golden lashes, but he blinked them away and squared his shoulders bravely before closing his eyes and looking up at Van, a wan smile on his cherubic face.

“He was right you know.” The young duke said. “He said that I wanted to prove that I was better than he was, that I wanted to make him into a monster so I could be the hero... and I did.” The smile faltered and Chid turned his head, listening in horror to the screams echoing through the ruined walls. “I made everything I wanted come true... and I know now that I’m not the hero here. I really am no better than the Emperor. Putting my dreams above the welfare of others... now look what happened. People are dying because of my desire for revenge.”

Van stared at the boy in shock, surprised at the depth and maturity of this statement. He’d honestly expected Chid to continue to blame Dilandau for all of this, to declare a blood feud against him and all of his allies. Instead, it seemed as if the boy had aged years over the course of a few hours and all the fanelian king could do was nod his head slightly in respect of his words.

“You’re the hero Van.” Chid stated, looking blindly back up at his friend. “You said that you loved him, that he loved you. Please, show me that miracles can happen and free us from the demon I awakened.”

Yeah... just stop Dilandau when he was in full rampage mode... no problem. At least this time he knew better than to try to rip the madness out of the albino. There was no way he’d be able to resist being sucked in along with him. He was equally sure that it was going to take more than a little humming and some wing scratches to calm the other draconian down.

Still, hadn’t Dilandau once said that fate provided him with what he needed? Well, right now, he certainly needed someone to believe in him, and Van intended to do just that.

Drawing in a deep breath, the king prepared himself for what was no doubt going to be a nightmarish scene of carnage, and raced forward towards the destruction and screams, He could hear Chid and several guards scrambling after him, blindly believing that somehow he was the answer to their prayers, the guardian sent by Altantis to lead them through the darkness.

 

No matter how prepared he thought he was, he was in no way ready for what he saw. It was the labs all over again, only this time he knew in his heart that these people didn’t deserve this.

A massive chunk of the palace wall had been blown out, the edges of the stones melted and twisted into black glass sculptures which gleamed in the light of several flickering fires. It only took a quick glance to recognize bodies burning in the centre of each pyre, their limbs bent and twisted into unnatural configurations, making Van almost grateful that they were quite obviously dead.

Others hadn’t been quite so lucky. Several guards lay on the ground, their bodies shredded beyond recognition as if they’d been stabbed by hundreds of knives all at once. They shuddered and gasped for air even as blood bubbled and frothed on their chests, proclaiming to all that the wounds were indeed mortal despite their continued grasp of life.

On of those aforementioned guards grasped blindly at Van as he strode past. The man’s eyes had been torn to bloody ruins along with the rest of his face, though as Van glanced down, he saw an inky black feather dissolving away into fine ash in the depths of one of the empty sockets.

Ragged lips moved as the man attempted to speak, but no words came out, only a bloody froth as he gurgled out his final breath, then the fingers released their grip.

Van wanted to feel moved by the carnage, knew that he should be, but all he could do was look ahead at the nightmarish tableau laid out before him in the centre of the slaughter.

He found himself standing in the centre of what had likely once been a series of outbuildings which had been destroyed during the war. They were well behind the castle not too far from the guymelef sheds and Van had the fleeting sense of familiarity with the location, but it was impossible to tell if he’d been here before. Off to his left, he could see that something had burned the stones with intense heat, greater than normal fire and that sick feeling twisting up his guts began to grow as he recognized the remains of a Zaibach guymelef. It was little more than a few molten lumps of liquefied metal, but he recognized the few tattered remains of the midnight purple cloak which had been caught beneath some rubble and saved from the flames which had consumed the rest of the machine.

Here he’d fought Miguel Lavariel, Dilandau’s lover, stopping the escaping teens vicious rampage through the city and likely saving dozens of lives. He’d never understood why the dragonslayer had chosen to attack the city rather than simply escaping with his life, but in hindsight, it was likely Folken’s doing. His brother had intended for the teen to die and with Dilandau nowhere near enough to keep Fate at bay, Lavariel had continued on his path to destruction.

A shiver ran down Van’s spine as he stared at the melted slag, feeling the air grow heavy and foreboding.

He’d been the one to defeat the hidden guymelef, using his newly awakened ability to see the invisible, cutting the dragonslayer down even as the enemy teenager took aim at his unprotected back.

This is where it had started to unravel for Dilandau, Scarring his face might have started him on the path of madness, but here, this rubble strewn courtyard was where those last tethers of sanity had snapped.

 

“Unhand him demon!” A voice rang out across the rubble strewn courtyard and Van hard the distinct sound of dozens of bowstrings being pulled taut.

 

Another wave of dizziness washed over Van and he had the strangest sensation of falling, the wind pulling at the pinions of his wings.

 

Resting just above his heart, the pendant shone brilliantly warring with the feather which tried to drink in the light greedily and snuff it out.

 

Taking a deep and bracing breath, Van finally turned to look at the one place he’d been avoiding. A place wreathed in shadows, where the sun itself refused to take part in the vicious drama playing out.

Two figures filled the darkened space. One was little more than a silhouette. Wings as black as midnight were stretched out to their fullest. Darker than shadow, they seemed to drink in the light, smothering it in their inky depths. He could feel the chill radiating from them and it caused something in his guts to instinctively recoil. They were twisted, unnatural, an abomination made even more so by the blood which dripped from those long elegant pinions. Invisible until each drop was separated from the wings. He couldn’t tell if the wings themselves were bleeding, or if they were simply drenched from the death and gore surrounding them.

Either way, it created a steadily growing pool at Dilandau’s feet, oozing between the cracks in the rubble, pooling together with what seemed like a sinister purpose.

Desperately, he searched for any hint of his lover in the midst of that darkness, hoping to find at least one familiar feature to latch onto and use as a focus against this insanity, but t was so hard. His eyes kept wanting to look away, his mind refusing to see what had become of the shining white warrior he’d grown so fond of.

What had once been Dilandau was now a being which seemed to be comprised of pure featureless darkness save for those burning energist eyes and molten tears which trailed down his face, glowing with their own inhuman light.

In the middle of his brow, someone had drawn a strange glyph that looked almost like a wide staring eye and Van couldn’t quite repress a shudder as he realized that it bore an uncanny resemblance to the sigil which had burned across the capital city of Zaibach during the activation of their vile destiny machine.

Energy crackled around him, cold and malevolent. It made Van’s skin crawl and he could practically feel his feathers curl back as if burned by the very thought of drawing closer to this... thing.

_Fly with us, be one of us, feast with us_

He could almost hear the soft vicious whispers on the burning air around them and for a moment, he caught a glimpse of that ruined battlefield strewn with broken corpses drenched in blood. Up above an endless storm raged, flashing lightning the colour of dragenergist.

“So hungry.” Van heard the softly spoken words and shuddered in horror as he recognized Dilandau’s voice, stripped of all humanity and warmth, leaving behind something purely cold and predatory. “So empty...”

Sweet gods of Gaea, what had those monks managed to do to him? Had they unlocked something hidden away in the sorcerers magics? Was that even Dilandau standing in front of him, or the weapon Shroden and his cronies had ultimately been aiming for? NO! He had to believe that Dilandau was in there somewhere. More importantly, he had to believe that he could reach the other no matter what barriers lay between them.

“Drop him or Die!” The warning sounded across the clearing with its deadly ultimatum, but Van knew that Dilandau either didn’t hear them, or simply didn’t care. Instead, those burning eyes were fixed utterly on the struggling figure held in his hands, struggling futilely in his lethal grip.

Regent Ishaan didn’t look nearly as regal and imposing now that he was being choked to death, but Van found that his deeply held fury simply couldn’t hold up to the sight of the man frantically clawing at the hands which were killing him. Stripped of his power, arrogance and dignity, the mighty regent was nothing more than just another victim.

“Shhh stop fighting it.” Dilandau all but crooned, those glowing eyes far too wide, the pupils so contracted that they might as well have not existed at all. “There’s no stopping this. The bargain has been struck and bound in blood. Your life for his.. You should be so proud, this was your idea after all. Undo what has been done, reverse the cycle, rip out the heart of Destiny and crush it in my hands!” He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “An exchange, a life for a life. You should be pleased with how reasonable I’m being, all things considered. After all, I’m so very very hungry.” The words were hissed out in growing fury, the madness behind it palpable, and Van wasn’t the only one to take a slight step back despite himself.

“Right here, you bastards ended everything for me.” Dilandau’s voice began to rise from the soft yet terrible whisper, to something so much worse and Van felt his blood running cold as he realized that his adversary of so many colours ago hadn’t made it very far at all from the point of his defeat. Worse, Dilandau knew it with the same uncanny surety which had always led him directly to Van in his quest for revenge.

“You took away my heart and soul in this very spot, on these very stones. HE COULDN’T EVEN SCREAM YOU BASTARD!!!”

“DROP HIM ALBATOU!” That voice rang out once more and Van could practically feel all of those arrows quivering against their bowstrings, ready to fly.

“YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!” Dilandau screeched, his wings flaring out violently, spraying blood in all directions as the air crackled with pent up energy. “FEEL MY PAIN YOU BASTARD!! FEEL WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME!”

Crimson lighting sizzled around the two forms as Dilandau’s eyes flared with energist light and despite his ruined throat, Regent Ishaan somehow managed to scream. It was a sound of purest agony and it seemed to echo through the destruction, gripping the hearts of everyone with icy dread.

Unable to stop himself, Van took a step forward, then another, refusing to take his eyes off the grizzly scene no matter how much he wanted to. He could stop this. He HAD to stop this. He was the only one who could.

“Your life for his.” Dilandau breathed, and his suddenly soft tones made the hair on the back of Van’s neck stand on end. “They promised me that I’d have him back once we feasted, once I set them free.” As he spoke, the Regent’s body stiffened, his spine arching sharply as every tendon stood out starkly beneath his skin.

At first, the man’s veins began to shine as if the blood housed within had turned molten. The glow grew, bleeding beneath his skin into muscles and the bones beneath skin as Ishaan’s screams became wild shrieks which bore no resemblance to anything which should be made by a human throat.

“Stop this Dilandau!” Van yelled, reaching out his hand, knowing he was going to be too late to stop the inevitable.

The glowing light grew, intensified and then finally, the man’s skin split open as flames the colour of energist rushed up into the air, consuming flesh with greedy hunger. Soundless, save for the initial rush of displaced air, dark tanned skin blackened, curled and began to crumble into ash. The raw red flesh beneath was exposed, already smoking as he was cooked from within.

The man was dead, he had to be dead... so why was he still screaming and shuddering as the flames consumed him? Worse, why was the blood at Dilandau’s feet twisting and boiling up as if something was rising from beneath?

“I’ll save you Miguel. I’ll save all of you. Just come back to me.”

Van hard the sound of the bows release their deadly shafts. He felt the rush of wind around him, the sudden surge of exhaustion and heard the scream of the air being split apart around them. He wasn’t going to reach him, he’d failed Dilandau... lost him before he’d been able to properly appreciate what he’d had.

Darkness filled his vision, then a flash of blinding white as the earth shuddered from violent impact, knocking him off of his feet. Stunned, he heard the sharp staccato of arrows hitting metal, bouncing harmlessly away, followed by a familiar hydraulic hiss, sounding almost draconic in nature.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Dilandau shrieked wildly in absolute maddened fury and Van looked up in shock, staring at the shadow shrouded dragonslayer, pinned beneath a massive white clawed foot.

The boiling blood fell calm once more, seeping into the ground and between the stones in a much more natural fashion even as the body of the Regent ceased to move. The shining crimson flames feasted on truly dead flesh, consuming the body as quickly as crima fire.

For several moments, it didn’t look like Dilandau was even aware of what had pinned him. He was too busy clawing wildly at the blood soaked earth around him, trying to dig up the remains of his long dead lover. Those shining eyes of his were wide and unseeing, the glowing tears pouring down his cheeks and sizzling where they hit the ground.

“NOOO!!! They promised!!! THEY PROMISED ME!!!” He cried, the sound so utterly broken and desolate that Van couldn’t quite keep his own tears in check as he carefully approached the struggling figure.

He wasn’t sure if Dilandau finally felt his presence, or if some more mundane sense alerted the dragonslayer to the fact that he was no longer alone, but the dark draconian suddenly froze. Slowly, he craned his head back to see what was pinning him to the ground and had the situation not been so utterly horrific, it might have been almost comedic the way that Dilandau’s eyes widened and his mouth went slack in shock.

That effect lasted a whole five seconds before the Zaibach teens face twisted and contorted into a mask of pure madness as he tried to throw himself at the massive armoured form of the White Dragon, heedless of any injury he might incur.

Black wings battered at the armoured limb as ineffectively as Ishaan had fought against his own defeat. The air around Dilandau crackled with wild power unleashed as he shrieked and cursed at the unmoving form pinning him prone to the ground.

“FINISH IT YOU BASTARD!” Dilandau screamed as he thrashed about, sending gory dust and debris in all directions. “End it! Kill me like you did them! END THIS PAIN!”

Van finally reached him, dodging the flailing wings, he dropped down to his knees and tried to gather his lover into his arms. Just touching him was painful. Whatever was covering his skin was icy cold, reminding Van of the dragonslayers deadly touches.

“Kill me! Grant me that much at least! Let me be with them in death if I can’t in life!” The tortured teen wailed, his body shaking so violently that he didn’t even seem to be aware of Van’s presence, just the dragon towering over them both. “Kill me you fucking bastard or by Fate, I’ll slaughter everyone on this cursed planet and bathe in their blood!”

Escaflowne was unmoved by either pleas or threats. It continued to stand there, shielding them both from the rest of the world, the massive energist casement of it’s heart glowing with a dull light, thrumming gently.

“Dilandau...” Van finally murmured, reaching out to stroke the shadow sheathed hair despite how it chilled his fingers to the point of pain. “You promised me that you’d stop trying to die.”

“NO!!! NONONONO!!!” The dragonslayer shook his head back and forth wildly as if trying to deny Van’s very existence as he continued his struggles to free himself. “Gone! Gone, everything’s gone. I’m all alone. No voices, no touches... all alone. They took them... killed them, left me in the darkness.”

Growling softly, Van grabbed either side of Dilandau’s head, forcing him to hold still and look at the king, to acknowledge his existence.

“You’re not alone Dilandau. I’m here. I promised you that I’d be here for you, that I wouldn’t leave you. Look at me!” It was hard to avoid touching those glowing tears, but Van was rather sure that contact with them would be a bad idea.

Those glowing eyes flitted over him, refusing to focus as they seemed to look through him at some other reality which the young captain had been trapped in.

“Gone... everyone is gone. All alone as they fly above me. I’m so hungry and they’re calling me to feast...” Van shuddered in horror at the words as he recalled those ever circling draconians flying on ashen wings, whispering foul promises if only they’d give in and join them.

“I’m still here. Fly with me Dilandau, not with them. Remember when we flew together? You were so beautiful and free. Seeing you like that... it was the first time I really realized that there could be something between us other than hatred. It was the first time I’d ever felt blessed to be a draconian and thankful for my wings. Remember me Dilandau, remember us!”

Despite his warm words, he could feel the dragonslayer pulling away, his body shuddering from his touch as fresh shining tears poured from his eyes.

“Celena... where are you? Please don’t leave me alone here. The table is so cold... he’s crushing me, devouring me... inside me and tearing his way out.” Suddenly those eyes focused on Van and for a moment, the fog of madness lifted as Dilandau lunged forward, seizing Van’s lips with his in a desperate kiss which seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough.

Van could taste Dilandau’s pain and terror, his desperation and absolute chocking sorrow. It called to him, burrowed into him, seeking purchase in his heart.

“Please Van.” Dilandau’s lips brushed against his as he whispered softly. “Please let me die. My soul’s been torn apart too many times. Please... grant me peace. Let me join them one last time.”

This was what it felt like to experience true heartbreak. It wasn’t the bittersweet ache of Hitomi saying goodbye or seeing the broken body of his brothe rlaying in a growing pool of blood. This was devastating and utter loss which caused him to hold onto Dilandau’s trembling body tightly, wrapping his wings around them both and screaming out his helpless rage at the world, even as the dragonslayer went limp in his arms, those dark wings of ill omen finally falling still.

Black wings, black feathers... Dilandau was going to die. Just like Folken, like his mother, like every other draconian in existence, leaving him as truly the last of his cursed race. There would be no brilliant rebirth of his people, no grand destiny or happy ending. They truly were cursed beings.

Love might have saved the world from darkness, but it seemed that it wasn’t enough to save the draconians... or himself.

“Van?” Chid’s soft and hesitant voice cut through the overwhelming sorrow which dragged at his soul, causing him to tighten his grip protectively around his shadow shrouded lover. A quick glance over his shoulder showed the young duke carefully approaching, his eyes fixed on the ground at his feet, not at Van himself. Around him were several guards, their weapons drawn and gazes full of vengeance.

“You caused this.” He stated, his voice dull and flat sounding. Though Chid winced and the guards looked utterly outraged at his accusations, Van took no satisfaction in it. “We were the last...”

“We thought we were saving you.” The young duke spoke the words, but it was clear that his heart wasn’t in the protest. “He tried to warn us, you tried to warn us... but we didn’t listen. Much like the original Children of Atlantis, we brought about our own doom, but like them, we will shoulder the burden of blame.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Van couldn’t help but sneer, his gaze returning to those black wings and the doom they proclaimed. He’d grown to love running his fingers through those silken feathers. He’d adored how Dilandau would melt in pleasure at the touch. Unable to restrain a sob, he buried his face in the crook of that shadow shrouded neck, ignoring the piercing cold and how it burned his skin.

“You know... he made us go back for the others... for Ignis and Irma. We could barely stand, surrounded by madness and death... but he still made us go back. I didn’t know what he was doing. Even when I figured it out, I told him to stop... he nearly killed himself with the effort, but he never once complained or hesitated.” Van spoke into Dilandau’s neck, continuing to hold him tight as tears fell freely down his face. “He even made me swear that we’d get the damn dragon.”

“Van....”

“Several times, I suggested abandoning them to save ourselves, but each time he refused. He said that he couldn’t lose anyone else... not even me. The things he did to save me... no one would ever believe. Even when he still said that he hated me, he never hesitated to walk through hell for me.

“He made me learn how to take pride in what I was, to see my wings as beautiful and treasured when all of my life, people saw what I really was and treated it like a curse. I’ve never seen anyone take so much fierce joy out of life while at the same time wishing so desperately for death... but this... He didn’t deserve this Chid.”

“Van I’m s-”

“Don’t apologize.” Van interrupted with a soft sigh, gathering the limp form up into his arms as the mighty armour finally raised it’s foot, allowing him to move. “He’d find it insulting and honestly, right now, so do I.”

“Your Highness, that demon killed the Regent! He slaughtered countless guards! We can’t let him leave!” Spinning around, Van’s wings flared as he prepared to unleash a vicious tirade about how they’d already done more than enough to the dragonslayer, but Chid beat him to it.

The duke held up a hand, commanding silence from his people, projecting all of the authority previously denied him.

“Take him Van. Grant him his last request if that’s your wish, or return with Fanelia with him. So long as he never sets foot in Freid again, I will consider the scales between us balanced.”

“But sire!”

“Enough.” Chid’s voice rose just a fraction and there was enough of an edge to it to silence the much larger and older guard. “Revenge is what caused this madness. I will not see Freid stain it’s hands any further.” He then took what was clearly a deep bracing breath, not happy with what he was about to say, but knowing that it had to be said, especially in front of his people.

“Van, I asked you to save my people, and you did exactly that. Thank you, and I pray that one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for my actions.” To everyone’s surprise, Chid then knelt down on the somewhat gory ground and bowed deeply to Van, respect practically radiating from him.

“If you wish my forgiveness, start by releasing my family.”

“They left already.” Chid couldn’t help but smile faintly at the situation. Freid had truly proven that they were utterly incapable of making any show of force. Half starved ex slaves, a handful of beastmen and a dragon had slipped through their fingers just as easily as a bound and drugged demon. The fates were certainly making it clear that his people should stick to what they knew best. Farming, philosophy and seeking to coexist with the world around them. Leave the war and cutthroat intrigue for others.

“They were headed northwest as they left the city.” One of the guards supplied somewhat nervously. “It looked like they were aboard the Leviship Bhaagi.”

Van nodded his head, glancing in the direction his family had fled. Towards Fanelia. Good. That means that they would catch up to them quickly. Few things were as fast as Escaflowne in flight. Only the Dragonslayers had ever out flown him, though in his defence, Dilandau HAD been shooting fireballs at him.

Wait... Escaflowne?

Stiffening slightly, Van looked up at the hulking guymelef, it only now truly registering that the armour was here, looming over them like the worlds largest mother hen with her chicks.

But... but how? He clearly remembered removing the energist from it’s heart. The armour should be nothing but a shell standing watch over his brothers tomb. To have travelled here from Fanelia... it was impossible. Then again, had he not borne witness to many impossible things in the last week alone? What was one more miracle? Especially when it had saved his life.

Smiling fondly at his armour, he reached out a hand and gently placed it over the warm pulsing heart of the dragon, currently clutched in one of its clawed feet and resting on the ground next to them. Sparks danced along his fingertips at the touch and he felt the energy breeze through his body, dancing along his nerves and making his feathers tingle.

It reminded him of the first tentative kiss he’d shared with Dilandau, and on impulse, he leaned forward, brushing his lips over those of the dragonslayer.

The sharp flickers of sensation grew, causing the fine hairs on his arms to stand on end and he could almost feel the stone heart of the armour pulse in time with his heartbeat... with Dilandau’s. Emboldened, he pressed his hand against the stone and deepened the kiss, pulling his lover closer, willing the dark and twisted energy out of his body, cleansing it with his own and with the pure power of the Ispano guymelef.

_Please,_ Van begged silently. _Please Escaflowne, you’re the god of my people, our souls are one, bound by blood pact. That means that so is Dilandau’s. Momma said that we were bonded, that our power flows through us both_ _like a great and beautiful river. Heal his soul, grant him peace. You and I... we’ve taken so much from him. It’s long past time that we gave something back._

Closing his eyes, Van opened himself to the power of his bonds to the mystical armour and tormented draconian, letting the awareness of the others fill him.

Escaflowne felt so cold and pure, a rush of ice water pressing beneath his skin, cleaning away the pain and anguish which threatened to suffocate him. He could feel the unparalleled strength in it’s limbs, the unlimited potential still waiting within for him to discover and unlock. Endlessly patient, It was a vast deep well drinking him in drop by steady drop.

In contrast, Dilandau was fire. It burned inside him, searing muscle and bone as the power surged inside him, straining against the bonds of his flesh. Emotions tore through him, each one so vast and consuming that they made Van feel as if he was trapped in the centre of a terrible storm which scoured him mercilessly.

Placing himself between the two great forces in his life, Van opened himself freely, letting himself be the portal between them, radiated love, respect and devotion.

_Come on you son of a bitch._ Van thought fiercely as he held the kiss, not even noticing the biting cold of the dark shell surrounding Dilandau now that it was contrasted with the molten heat of his soul and the power housed within. _We saw those visions. We have so many lives to live with each other, so many worlds to dance through. You’ve always been there, either as my shadow or my sun and I’m not about to lose you now to some half assed Freidian ritual! Those Madoushi bastards made you to survive at all costs, so live dammit!_

Closing his eyes, he focused on the way Dilandau always melted in his arms as they kissed, how his eyes flashed with fire when his emotions were roused and how he took such pure unadulterated delight in the chaos of life. He thought of the strength behind his blade as they fought, the speed and deadly grace he displayed when in his armour and how blindingly ruthless he was both in and out of battle.

Those watching took a step back in awe as they stared at the two draconians, watching the crimson sparks dance across their joined bodies, sliding through the shadows which wreathed the dragonslayer, breaking through the shadowy shell and dissolving it.

At first, it was a few tiny drops of inky blackness, then those drops became a thin stream, sliding of f of the pale flesh like fresh silt, only to dry out and flake into ash before they hit the ground. In moments, the darkness was pouring off of the teen, surrounding the two of them in a dark cloud which then seemed to catch fire in the sunlight. Dark ash became brilliant gleaming gold for a single beautiful moment, making the lovers glow like twin suns, before fading rapidly, leaving them laying there, entwined in each others arms.

Gently breaking the kiss, Van smiled down at the clear face of his love, feeling warmth against his skin once more coupled with the gentle rise and fall of Dilandau’s chest and he drew in a deep cleansing breath. Though his eyes remained closed, the king knew that they’d survived the worst of the storm.

Glancing to the side, his heart sank for a moment as he realized that those beautiful wings were still adorned with black feathers. No... they weren’t the same as they’d been mere moments ago, and that realization gave birth to a small spark of hope in his heart. Instead of the inky pitch which drew in all light or the trapped memory of colour as with Folken’s wings, they were now the beautiful iridescent of a beetle’s shell. The sunlight was captured within those soft pinions, shifting and dancing with every movement no matter how slight, creating a mesmerizing display.

They’d be beautiful to look at when he lay there still in the king’s arms, making him wonder how utterly breathtaking they’d be when he flew. Gods of Gaea, as if he wasn’t already as vain as a peacock. Now he was going to be so much worse.

“You really do love him, don’t you.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement of fact from Chid, his soft voice breaking the silence of the moment, though Van didn’t mind. Gently, he traced his fingers through those dark feathers, admiring how they shimmered iridescently at his touch. They were still as soft as before, and he thrilled at feeling the fever warm flesh beneath.

“I do.” He finally replied, not looking up. Instead, he gently gathered the dragonslayer in his arms and held him close.

“After all that he did to you... I... I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to Chid.” The fanelian king replied, sparing the boy a brief glance before walking over to Escaflowne’s flank, smiling at the armour obediently knelt down slightly. A few short flaps of his wings saw them both gracefully mounted on the dragon’s back.

Silently he gave a quick thanks to any gods watching, that neither of their wings got in each others way, turning a rather regal moment into a pratfall.

Only when he was comfortably seated in the saddle, with Dilandau securely resting on his lap did he look down at the young duke. It was odd to have the boy looking up at him with closed eyes, but if what Chid had said was true, he’d rather not have his friend see his future death. Some things were better left to the unknown.

“I’m sorry this happened Chid.” He stated gently, hoping that somehow, the friendship they’d developed during the war managed to survive this catastrophe in one form or another. “We honestly didn’t mean any harm coming here.”

“Everything happens for a reason Van.” Chid replied, sounding far older and wiser than his seven years. “My father believed that, and I tried to as well, but... I think now I really do understand it.”

“But... you’re blind, and your Regent is dead.” Well, more than the regent had died, the castle once again was in pieces and he vaguely remembered someone saying something about dead monks as well... really, Dilandau always seemed to leave his destructive mark on this country.

“What some see as a curse, others turn into a strength.” Chid replied, doing his best to sound confident despite the harsh road ahead of him. “I will do so as well. As for Ishaan...” His voice trailed off sadly, remembering the man’s cowardly choices in the end. “All men must be prepared to give their lives for Freid if need be. Ishaan.... he loved himself more than this sacred land, and in the end, that likely proved to be his undoing. Still, we will honour him and all those who fell this day... and... and we will honour those who’ve fallen before. No matter what side they were on.” A glance in the direction of burned and blood soaked ground made it obvious who the duke was referring to. “In our anger we forgot that important lesson. We won’t forget again.”

Nodding his head, Van pulled on the reins of his armour and the great head lifted up as hydraulics hissed out a spray of steam beneath the wings, preparing to lift off.

“Van!” Chid held up a hand, aborting the lift off. The king looked down once more at the duke, watching the boy gather up his courage once more, licking his lips nervously in a gesture which reminded him rather uncannily of Dilandau when he was nervous or excited. “Van... When he wakes up... tell him I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“He hates apologies.” The dark king gently warned, though he did feel his own heart lighten at the public admission. “Let your actions speak for you instead.” With that, he gave the reins a sharp tug and the dragon leaped into the air, the wind pulling at his hair and feathers mercilessly, though he easily kept his balance. Several loose feathers were tugged free from both of them however and there was a gentle rain of shimmering feathers in their wake.

 

One might think that flying with someone in your arms would be sweet and romantic, but it quickly became apparent that anyone who thought that was clearly an idiot. They likely had never considered the problems one might encounter when the person in your arms was A: taller than you, and B: had wings which created an impressive amount of drag. In less than an hour, every muscle in Van’s body was screaming at him and he’d have happily given half of his kingdom for a chance to rest for a few minutes.

“How is it that I always end up carrying you?” He grumbled down at the still unconscious figure in his arms, only to be greeted with silence. “And how you weight so much? Do you eat rocks when I’m not looking or is this just some mystical power fuelled by pure spite?” Still no reply, not that he was really expecting one. After all that the dragonslayer had gone through recently, he’d be lucky to wake up at all over the next few days. Sheer stubbornness could only take you so far, and Dilandau had likely used all of that up in the dungeons.

The albino’s words still haunted Van, the claims that he couldn’t hear or feel Celena, begging Van to let him die... well, that and the whole trying to raise his dead dragonslayers. Just remembering the way that blood had bubbled and swelled, as if something really was growing inside of it was enough to fuel more nightmares than he wanted to think about. Worse were his comments which made it sound as if those dead and ever circling draconians had spoken to him, had acted through him and driven him to that vicious level of insanity.

Were they still inside him? Circling around in the depths of his mind whispering more twisted promises and just waiting for another chance to strike? Dammit, why couldn’t he have normal problems?

“Just stay with me Dilandau.” He found himself saying to the unconscious teen. “I know that you feel alone, that everything is all twisted up in your head and that you’re right back in that hell you grew up in... but you’re not. You’re here with me, we’re free and I’m never going to ask you to surrender yourself again.” Granted, he really wished that Dilandau hadn’t publicly executed the Regent, or cursed Chid, but a part of him did truly believe that they’d brought that on themselves. If only they’d listened to him instead of letting revenge motivate them... the way Van had at first.

It hurt to know that he had behaved no better than they had. True, he’d kept his attacks to mere words, but they’d still left their mark and several had cut deeply. At least Dilandau had been able to fight back, giving as good as he’d gotten, and oddly enough, Van found himself fearing that he could very well never hear another poisonous insult or psychotic musing again.

“You sure picked a subtle place to hide, Vaaan.” The king nearly dropped his precious cargo as he heard the words purred out, dripping with menace and scorn. Though they were spoken in Zaibachi, he understood enough to glean the meaning. However the way his name was dragged out, as if being savoured in a rather unwholesome fashion sent a shiver down his spine.

“Well, I didn’t exactly have much of a choice given our circumstances.” He replied in Astorian, more than positive that any attempt he made at speaking Dilandau’s native language would be laughable at best. “How are you feeling? Did you need me to land?”

There was something unnerving about the look in the dragonslayer’s eyes. He seemed to look through Van without seeing him, focused instead on something ahead of them. Ruby red eyes gleamed with murderous intent and a cruel smile tugged at lush pale lips as Dilandau leaned forward in eagerness, heedless of the drop below.

“Alright everyone.” He barked out in that tone of voice he used when addressing his new little army. “Stay tight. The dragon hunt ends today.” Wait, what? He had to have heard that wrong because that made utterly no sense.

“Dilandau? Dilandau, hang on, I’m going to land alright?” Even as he spoke, he began looking around for a flat area to set down safely. It seemed that the drugs the monks had given him were still affecting him in some way and as much as he didn’t want to think about it, there was a good chance that the zaibach youth could become violent.

Even as Escaflowne gently banked, Dilandau proved Van right by suddenly leaping off of the armour, catching the king by surprise. For a moment, all Van could do was stare in numb shock as the pale body plummeted towards the ground at an alarming speed before those beautiful wings caught the air and sent him racing off towards a distant set of plateaus.

Eerily familiar plateaus...

Oh sweet Gods of Gaea...

Desperately, he began to give chase, faintly hearing the dragonslayer calling out orders to his men, getting them into position as he raced towards a large desolate stretch of rock, ringed by wind torn ridges and a large crevasse which nearly bisected the ridge.

There was no vegetation on this battleground turned graveyard which had become such a pivotal point in both their lives. Only fourteen dull formless lumps of glassy stone, burned black from intense heat marked it’s barren surface.

From the air, Van could see how they’d formed up small units, attacking in groups in their attempts to flank him before realizing that their efforts were in vain. His mind began replaying the battle, remembering how he’d moved, how they’d responded. Attacking at first, secure in their victory, then falling back quickly into defensive positions as they’d been overwhelmed and torn apart.

Trapped in the past, his eyes seeing what had already played out in countless nightmares, Dilandau landed neatly in what would have been the front ranks of his men. From there, he’d have a clean shot at Escaflowne. First blood and final victory.

Van could see the eager grin on his lips, the murderous fire in his eyes and the way he drew in his breath, savouring every moment before the inevitable.

“ATTACK!” He screamed, his body tensing as if preparing to leap into the fray and lead the charge, but his muscles locked, causing a brief flash of confusion on his face before his body relaxed.

Folken, it had to be Folken, meddling with Dilandau’s fate, holding him back urging him to stand there, a perfect target awaiting execution, all the while confident in his invulnerability.

Confusion graced those lovely features once again and crimson eyes widened in outrage for a moment, then narrowed dangerously. Van knew his men were dying one after another, falling to his hand, their screams echoing across the stones.

One of the lumps of slag began to smoulder, glowing with an eerie blue light before the first tendrils of fire began to flicker into being. Another followed moments later, then a third burst into flame.

 

“Damn he’s fast...” Dilandau snarled softly to himself, his eyes darting around the battlefield. Something was wrong, terribly wrong but he didn’t understand what. Why were his men screaming like that? Were they warriors or children? It was embarrassing honestly and he made a point of remembering each voice he heard, vowing to make them regret their weakness in the face of battle. Ugh, why couldn’t he think clearly?

Giving his head a shake, he tried to clear the cobwebs and shot an annoyed look in Ryuun’s direction.

“Activate stealth cloaks!” Really, they should have already been stealthed. The moon bitch wasn’t there after all. Their prey would be defenceless and honestly, he loved picturing the looks of terror on the faces of his prey as they were slowly torn apart by invisible swords, trying desperately to defend against “thin air”.

No sooner had the words left his lips when Ryuun’s guymelef faded from sight with only the fainted wavering of the air around him. The others faded from sight at the same time, moving as flawlessly with each other as they always had in battle. So why were they screaming?

Warning alarms were sounding on his monitors as unit after unit began to flash red, then black, the readings from their systems falling silent. Flatlines. One after another. There goes Dallet, Leorio, Ardee... More and more piles of slag lit up, bathing the plateau in their spectral blue light as screams echoed across the veils of the worlds.

Viole, Sellen, Daton Their screams echoed over the coms before falling silent the same instant that their units flat lined on his readouts.

Slowly, the fog began to lift from his mind as he realized that something was very wrong. The screams, they echoed into his head, eating into his brain. So many screams...

“What... what’s happening?” Dilandau was rooted to the spot, his muscles tensing as he tried to move and found himself paralyzed. “He’s going crazy!” Sweat began to pour down his face in rivulets, soaking his hair and his clothes as the pressure inside him began to build and he began breathing heavily as wide eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking.

_“Lord Dilandau!”_ Shesta’s voice rang out clearly across the field of battle as flames rose up in place of his grave, their brilliant blue light eating into his mind, blinding him to anything beyond their terrible light.

 

Van gasped as he heard the cry, the scream, the echo of a huge sword shearing through metal and flesh. There were so many pyres burning now, and in each one, he could see a slender form inside clad in the distinctive armour of the Dragonslayers.

“Gatti? Shesta? Dallet?” Dilandau began looking around frantically, his body still locked in place as he searched for his missing men. Their silence tore at him, caused something inside him to shriek and he felt the first real stirrings of fear as he began to realize that he was all alone.

Van watched the growing horror on the albino’s face, seeing the struggle written across his features as he tried to understand what was happening. The fate energies rippled heavily across the battlefield, even now, colours afterwards, he could feel their echoes reverberating in the stones, the air, and the burning slag.

“Dilandau....” He slid off Escaflowne and took a step towards the frozen captain, but the flames surged wildly around him, their biting cold warning him back. “Please!” He begged the slayers standing within the fire. “Let me go to him! Let me show him he’s not alone!”

“Where is he?” Dilandau screamed out fruitlessly, his body jerking violently as he struggled to free himself from invisible bonds, trying to get his eyes to focus on the battle to see his men, his enemy, anything.

Van could see the coils of energy twisting around the captain, holding him in place, felt Dilandau’s own power rise up, struggling to break it. His slender body made a jerky step backwards, then another. There was no grace at all in his steps. He might as well have been a puppet in the hands of an inexperienced child.

Too much light, it hurt his eyes, burned something inside him deep down where the screams were. Crying out in hatred, in fear, begging for mercy, for death, for anything that might make them feel alive again.

“STAY AWAY!” The albino screamed, forcing his arms to rise, firing nonexistent crima claws wildly at an opponent who was no longer there. Van could almost feel the hot flash of of blood on his cheek and held out a hand, wanting to reach out to his love, to offer some form of comfort during the worst moment of the albino’s tortured life.

There was only the one attack, the single act of defiance against the fate closing in around him like a trap, leaving Dilandau powerless to do anything but cry out in despair and watch the inevitable rush forward in all of its fury.

The air rippled, shuddered, and Van felt something tear apart like a cord stretched too far. The flames roared, soaring into great pillars of light, blinding everyone in their brilliance, then faded to little more than embers. In their places stood the Dragonslayers, staring at Van with their cold empty eyes. To his horror, they stepped forwards, leaving the shelter of their spectral graves and walking towards him, leaving scorched footsteps in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that happened. No on is having a good day here. Freid is broken again, Dilandau is broken, Celena is missing and Van is about to re-enact his least favourite battle with a bunch of slightly annoyed ghosts.  
> Ugh, that last scene sucked because I had to watch the dreaded episode 14 several times... sniffle. The dialogue was taken from a subtitled copy I have (because the screaming is so heart wrenching in the original voices and Dilandau sounds so utterly broken. sniffle) It also flows a little better than the dub, but I'm likely very biased.
> 
> Anyway, I'm sure this will all work out for the best. The Dragonslayers will see what good care Van is taking of Dilandau and give him a hug... a soul tearing murderous hug...Yeah, he's fucked.
> 
> Next Chapter: Van's fucked.


	20. Where the Wild Roses Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van learns that a drugged out Dilandau is more than a handful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay warm weather is finally upon us! This chapter was a bitch to write mostly because there was so much I wanted to include into it. After the horrible debacle in Freid, Van is left with a lot of questions, a lot of guilt and a growing realization that love just might not be enough to save the world a second time. I'm having fun with the idea that it's not misunderstandings or rivals that could very well tear these two apart, but the world at large.  
> Love was such a huge theme in the series. How much it can hurt, how it can be twisted, how it can make you strong and how it can make you do foolish and incredible things. Most importantly, was the sacrifice one makes for love.  
> Is the love of our heroes enough to get them through their latest trial? Can they keep each other going until they reach a safe haven? Just how badly damaged is Dilandau after his visit to Freid?  
> ... I shouldn't write these when I'm overtired. ^_^

“Please tell me that we’re not going to go through this again.” Van groaned as he took a cautious step back towards Escaflowne, not daring to take his eyes off of the surrounding ghosts to even so much as blink.

_“This is your fault.”_ Miguel hissed, his voice low, dangerous and coming from just behind the king’s ear. Spinning around on his heel, Van’s hand automatically went to his hip, ready to draw the sword which wasn’t there. DAMMIT!! Well, it’s not like it would have done anything to the ghost other than vaguely amuse it. _”You let them hurt him.”_

Flat grey eyes glared into his, the handsome face twisted into a mask of loathing even as long slender fingers hooked into claws, ready to rip his soul out and scatter it to the four winds if he said even the slightest thing wrong.

Where the hell was Gatti? At least that one seemed to know that trying to keep Dilandau out of trouble was a fools errand. There were just too many people wearing identical armour, their natural colouring washed out, making it all but impossible to make out the second in command.

_“We trusted you.”_ A tall blonde spectre with wire rimmed glasses glared at him, moving in tandem with several others who were silently flanking him. _“He trusted you and you betrayed him!”_

“I fought for him against my allies!” Van retorted hotly, meeting the blonde’s glare with one of his own while doing his best to keep an eye on the movements of the rest of the team. He’d fought the Dragonslayers often enough to know their tactics and the instant he lost sight of any of them, he was doomed. Dead or not, their tactics were still the same.

“He gambled the same as I did and it didn’t work in our favour.” The fanelian continued, taking another cautious step back before he realized that this was exactly what they wanted. They were predators, just like their leader and the instant he acted like prey, they’d treat him as such.

“I don’t know what happened back there or what exactly they did to him, but I’d give anything to undo-”

_“_ _SHUT UP!”_ Miguel screamed in his face, causing a wave of deadly cold to wash over the king. _“No excuses! You put Lord Dilandau in danger! You gambled with his soul and look what happened!”_

“HE KNEW THE RISKS!” Van yelled back, his wings flaring out sharply, creating a strong gust of air which didn’t stir so much as a hair on the dragonslayer’s head. “Don’t you think for one second that I’m ignorant to the fact that he had a contingency plan with you guys! You all let him go with the guards just like I did. None of us thought that things would get that bad. If you did, you would have just attacked.” Judging by the silence and the continued cold glares, he’d scored a direct hit.

“Everything worth doing has risk involved right?” The king stared at one slayer after another, making a point of meeting their eyes, forcing them to acknowledge that he wasn’t going to back down despite the very real threat to his life. “He believed that, and believed that trusting in Freid’s honour was worth the risk.”

_“And was it?”_ Aha! There was Gatti, standing off on is left next to a rather feminine looking slayer with long curly hair. The second in command stared at Van with his cold eyes and expressionless face. Strong armour clad arms were crossed over his chest, creating the impression that he had all the time in the world to wait for Van’s answer... and maybe he did. It’s not as if he was getting any older. Besides, Van certainly wasn’t going to be allowed to leave until they were satisfied with his answers... or killed him.

Taking a deep breath, Van met the spirits eyes and answered as honestly as he could.

“I... I don’t know. Only time will tell, but right now, I can’t sit back and wait. He needs help.” Taking a huge risk, he turned away from the dragonslayer and looked over at Dilandau. The normally bold and fierce teen had dropped down to his knees in front of one of the still smouldering lumps of slag. Utter heartbreak was etched across every inch of his face as he scratched at the ground. Van ached to reach out to him, to stop him from hurting his hands on the rough ground, but that meant wading through the ranks of the Dragonslayers and they didn’t appear to be in any mood to move. At least as long as he was occupied, he wasn’t hurting himself on any serious level. He hoped.

_“_ _We can’t help him.”_ Gatti replied softly, his voice sounding even more distant and hollow. _“Not in the way he needs right now. His mind is tainted by the drugs they gave him, it corrupts the link with us. If we try to speak to him, we’ll only be forcing him to see our deaths over and over again. To attempt that again here... his mind might never leave.”_

“I don’t think he wants to leave.” Gods of Gaea, it hurt to admit that. “He... he asked me to let him die... to bring him here so he could finally be with you all.” His voice broke on the last word, forcing him to close his eyes as he struggled against the agony welling up inside him. “Even with all that crap poisoning him, all he wanted was to bring you back.” Opening his eyes, he looked over at Miguel who was still doing his best to eviscerate him with looks alone.

“He murdered the Regent of Freid, sacrificing him to bring you back. I was standing right there calling to him, but it was you he wanted.”

Van took very little satisfaction in seeing the look of pain flash across the arrogant spectre’s face as Miguel actually flinched. Turning away, those pale grey eyes glanced at the ground, then over to the captain. He’d never seen such emptiness and sorrow as he did now in Miguel’s face.

_“_ _I know... I felt it.”_ Dead lips whispered. _“I could feel the pull on my soul... but it was wrong... I would have come back wrong.”_ A hand reached out towards the captain, wanting to touch him so badly that even Van could feel it. That expressive mouth twisted into a bitter smile moments before Miguel’s hand dropped back to his side.

_“_ _What’s dead should never come back.”_ His voice was soft and distant, as if he was speaking to himself rather than his living rival. _“The gates to the Paths of the Dead only open one way.”_ Those lips suddenly pulled back into a tooth baring sneer. _“You should have been trapped on the path. It’s only because you’re a draconian and that moon bitch interfered. We’d won. We took you down.”_

“Is that what this is about then?” Van didn’t have either the time or patience for this and he fixed the handsome slayer with a cold glare. “Fine, you won. I was dead.... but... if I was, then why didn’t my wings turn black?”

_“I wasn’t aware that death granted us omniscience.”_ The bespectacled slayer drawled in a tone so saturated with arrogance that it could have given Dilandau a run for his money. _“How lucky for us that the afterlife has filled our heads with the full understanding of the draconian race.”_

Alright, maybe killing them all hadn’t been such a bad thing. He’s pretty sure he would have hated this guy even when he was alive.

_“Ease off Ryuun.”_ Gatti ordered, his voice never once rising, though the tone of command was clearly there. _“It’s a legitimate question.”_ Pale washed out eyes looked over at Van, narrowing slightly. _“It’s also one we can’t answer.”_

It didn’t take a genius to know that the “can’t” was more of a “won’t”. Either way, it left him woefully ignorant at a time when he couldn’t afford to be.

It was obvious that posturing and challenging wasn’t going to win him any answers from Dilandau’s team. That left him with one other option, one which brought him right back to that whole woefully ignorant theme he seemed to have going.

“I’m scared alright?” He bit out, his wings giving a little aggressive snap as his feathers ruffled up. “Look at him! How do I help him? How CAN I help him? He doesn’t even want me. All he wants is to be back with all of you.” There was no need to fake the pain in his voice or the way his body trembled in dread at the very real possibility of losing the albino forever.

“I can’t compete with the love he has for all of you. I wish I could because I want to do everything in my power and beyond to make him happy, to show him why living is worth all of the pain he’s enduring... but all he wants is you. If... if I love him, I should respect that... right?”

_“_ _Fuck that!”_ A small thin blonde stepped forward, the tight curls on his head resembling the woolly coat of a young lamb more than actual hair. Still, there was nothing sheep-like about the fierce stare he levelled at the king. _“We didn’t die for him to just bump himself off a few colours later and he damn well know it! Lord Dilandau has fought to stay alive when any other sensible or sane person would have just laid down and died! It’s those drugs that are messing him up, and those fucking-”_

_“_ _That’s enough Guimel.”_ Gatti cut in, his voice as sharp as a blade as he silenced the much smaller soldier.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Van narrowed his eyes, studying the second in command intently. Unfortunately, serving under Dilandau in life had left the other teen pretty much unflappable as far as attempts at intimidation were concerned and he met the king’s scrutiny without so much as a twitch.

_“_ _Likely a great many things.”_ The second in command admitted without hesitation or attempt at evasion and Van couldn’t help but sort of respect the forthrightness of the other teen.

The two stared at each other for a long moment before Gatti’s cold and impassive expression softened slightly.

_“Lord Dilandau wasn’t aware of you because thoughts of you don’t cause him pain. You don’t cause him to suffer anymore, while us... we always remind him of the pain tearing him up inside.”_ Both slayer and king turned to look over at the captain who was still pawing at the ground, this time in front of another pile of slag. Van could hear him talking, whispering to the graves of his men, utterly unaware that their ghosts were standing so close.

_“The love and loyalty of your friends was what pulled you free from our dead grasps. For him, it was the hatred of those who killed him. Revenge, rage, terror, every dark emotion you can think of... even now, it’s eating away at him, hollowing him out like a gourd.”_

“So... they really did kill him?” Van felt something dark and cold churn in his stomach as he realized the depths of the betrayal the two of them had suffered. How lost and alone Dilandau must have felt in those final moments. Had he waited for Van to come save him the way Celena had with Allen? Had his hope faded away bit by bit as the hours turned into days? As he was slowly starved? Gods of Gaea, he must be furious.

_“_ _Don’t let him die here. It doesn’t matter what he says. He doesn’t want his life to end, he’s just petrified of being alone again.”_

“I still failed him.” Van admitted, watching as Dilandau moved to another grave, still digging at the ground with strange intensity. “I should have done more.”

_“You did what you could. We’re the ones who failed him in the end. We all suspected what the Madoushi were doing to him. We even realized what Strategos Folken had done. If we’d been thinking straight, we’d have defected the instant we got him back. He’d have hated us for it and fought us every step of the way, but he’d have been free of their influence.”_

“Why didn’t you?” It was impossible not to ask, though he was honestly surprised that he didn’t sound even half as accusing as he felt. Instead of Gatti replying, it was a slender blond who spoke up.

_“We believed in him utterly.”_ Shesta, that was the slayers name. The feisty one. Was it a bad sign that he was starting to get to know his deceased enemies? Great Gaea, were they even really enemies at this point? Here he was, standing on their graves and having a perfectly reasonable, albeit surreal conversation with their ghosts.

_“No one dared to doubt Lord Dilandau, and certainly no one dared to go against him like that... besides, he believed in them. As much as he loathed them, he worshipped the Emperor.”_ Shesta smiled softly, looking more than a little ashamed over the admission. _“We all did. The Madoushi were an extension of the will of the Emperor. Disobeying them, obstructing their will... it didn’t even cross our minds. I think that’s our greatest crime really. Our blind obedience led us to wilfully destroy the world around us and kept us silent when the one we loved more than any other was hurt over and over again.”_

This time, when Shesta smiled at Van, there was a strange sort of peace in the expression.

_“You’re not like us. You fought to protect him. More importantly, you stand up to him and keep him from hurting himself. That’s more than we ever had the courage to do, and I thank you for it.”_

“What if it’s not enough?” Van looked from one pale washed out face to the next until one of the taller youths stepped forward. His face was just a touch too pretty to be called handsome, and it certainly wasn’t helped by his shoulder length brown hair.

_“_ _The greatest changes begin from the smallest of actions.”_ The spirit stated. _“Look what a simple act of kindness set in motion between the two of you.”_

Miguel grumbled something under his breath then stepped forward, glaring down is long nose at Van and radiating open hostility with every fibre of his being.

_“_ _We could throw metaphors about building great monuments one brick at a time until we’re all ready to puke, but the important thing is that few people have ever shown Lord Dilandau kindness of any sort. Fewer still did it without any ulterior motive. You have and that means more to him than a dolt like you would ever understand.”_ The spectre grew eerily till for a moment and Van had the distinct impression that if he’d been alive, he’d have heaved a rather heavy sigh. _“So don’t screw this up and don’t you dare abandon him like all those other idiots he risked trusting. If you do...”_

“You’ll kill me?”

_“_ _No.”_ Miguels smile turned into a purely malicious grin. _“He will.”_ Despite his expression and his words, the tension of the confrontation had been slowly draining away and the ranks of the dead eased back.

From where he stood, Van could see that he had two routes he could take, and there was no ignoring how one path led to Escaflowne, while the other led to Dilandau’s kneeling form. In all honesty, there was no question which direction he would choose and without hesitation, he began to walk towards the captain.

“I never got to say goodbye to them.” Dilandau murmured, speaking zaibachi in a strangely gentle sounding voice, making the harsh language sound almost mournful. He didn’t look up at Van’s approach, instead, he continued to smooth the hard dirt of the ground in front of one of the slag piles tenderly... reverently.

While the king didn’t catch every single word, he understood enough. Without speaking, he knelt down next to the albino youth, offering the nearness of his presence rather than words which would only sound empty.

“Not properly at least.” The Dragonslayer continued. “They gave everything they had for me and received nothing in return. Not even a monument to mark their final battle.” A frown darkened the youths lovely features and Van could easily see the tell tale glow in the depths of his eyes, one which was answered by the energist pendant.

“My men will never be forgotten, neither will their sacrifice.” As he spoke the words, Van felt energy crackle through the air. It was sharp, cutting and reminded him of lightning moments before striking. The pendant grew brighter and with a start, Van realized that so were his wings. They were a brilliant beacon of light on the otherwise desolate plateau. In contrast, Dilandau’s wings rippled with colour. Subtle shifting shades and tones fought for dominance along each feather creating the strangest sense of light within the darkness.

Something slid over Van’s hands like a snake, causing the king to tear his gaze away from those hypnotic wings and look down, wondering if somehow a particularly suicidal snake had slithered past them. Instead, much to his shock, he saw bright green tendrils reaching up from the ground.

Rather than pull away, he instead stared at it, utterly fascinated with how it was moving... growing in ways which defied reality. Even as he stared, its stalk split into two, then split again, each one growing and thickening as they spread out and reached for the sun. All around them, other plants were growing out of the ground at incredible speeds until they were surrounded by a small forest of green.

Then, to Van’s continued shock, long lethal looking thorns erupted all along their lengths. Sharp enough to easily cut through cloth and flesh... likely armour as well judging by their size, the king began to doubt the wisdom in just sitting here, allowing themselves to become trapped.

He was just about to voice his concern when the first bush, the one right in front of him exploded into colour. What began as small nubs of green twisted and burst open, revealing brilliant blue petals the exact same colour as crima flames.

With jaw hanging open, he watched flower after flower bloom, each one huge and perfect, shining with it’s own inner light. It was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever beheld and he found his breath catching in his throat.

“We would plant roses at the site of every battle we took part in.” Dilandau explained softly, his eyes locked on the gorgeous blooms, the colours reflecting off of his snowy white skin, making him seem as if he was part of them. “It was Guimel’s idea, to make sure that the world never forgot about us, ensuring our immortality forever. I’d never even considered the possibility that I might die, but I guess he did... which was funny because I was the one bleeding out at the time.”

Van had no idea what Dilandau was talking about, but it didn’t sound funny at all. Still, he didn’t dare interrupt the story. This moment was too precious, too sacred to risk ruining.

“We’ve covered Gaea in roses. Folken called them an invasive species... but that’s what we were too, so it fits. We’ve touched every corner of Gaea and left our mark, but here... everyone will know that here is where our most important battle was fought.

“Monuments crumble over time, they become nothing but rubble for later generations to wonder over. These... these will be eternal. They will never fade and never die. I promised my men immortality, greatness beyond death.” Those shining eyes closed tightly as Dilandau’s breath hitched. His slender fingers dug into the ground as he trembled at the base of the impossible garden.

This time, Van couldn’t hold himself back and he gently reached out a hand to touch the pale shaking shoulder. When the contact wasn’t rebuffed, he carefully shifted closer, allowing his arm to wrap around that slender back, pulling the suddenly fragile seeming body against his own.

He could feel Dilandau’s silent sobs, how his breath shook in his throat and how his muscles shuddered with tension. It was eerily similar to how they’d leaned against each other in the garden deep within the albino’s fractured mind, surrounded by flowers which represented the lives of so many lost children. At least these ones were honouring the fallen rather than killing them by proxy.

“They tried to make me forget, to make me stop caring.” Dilandau murmured softly, reaching up with one hand to lightly stroke along the petals of a nearby flower. “This way I won’t. No matter what they do to me. No matter how much of me they tear away, the flowers will always be here, always blooming.”

 

The sun was slowly beginning to set and still they sat there, surrounded by the soft blue glow of the roses. Their sweet scent was a subtle perfume which settled about them, helping to create a little pocket of reality where time stopped and no one else in the world existed but the two of them.

Dilandau’s eyes had drifted closed a while ago, his breathing deepening as he finally lost his battle with utter exhaustion. Still, Van could feel him tense and whimper in dread often enough to know that even now, his sleep was uneasy. The names of the Dragonslayers passed over his lips more often than Van cared to count, but instead of pulling away, he simply held the trembling body closer, gently brushing his fingers through those soft dark feathers.

Despite the tender scene, Van felt nearly overwhelmed with pain. He didn’t want Dilandau to die, didn’t want to even think about living with the terrible bleeding hole in his soul that the dragonslayer’s death would cause. But what right did he have to force the albino to live? After all he’d been through, all of the betrayal, the torture and the terror, was it really fair to force him to keep fighting? Besides, what could Van possibly offer him? Freid had opened his eyes to a rather dark truth.

It didn’t matter who he was, Gaea remembered Dilandau’s crimes and would demand blood. Fanelia would likely react no differently than Freid. It might be even worse. As Dilandau had said, at least Fried had buildings still standing. King or not, so much fanelian blood had been spilled that Van doubted the country would ever forgive the dragonslayer, let alone accept him as Van’s partner... his husband. Antoni was right, there was no way he could guarantee the other teen’s safety. There would always be someone who wanted revenge badly enough to go to any length to achieve it.

What sort of life was there for this beautiful vicious youth once the war was over?

“What am I supposed to do with you?” He found himself asking softly as he looked down at that achingly innocent looking face, absently smoothing a lock of silvery white hair from his brow. At his touch, Dilandau murmured something softly in zaibachi and nuzzled the king’s hand gently, a beatific smile ghosting across his face for the merest of moments. Still, it was long enough for Van to feel a surge of love well up inside him. In the end, there really was no decision to make and despite the huge odds stacked against them, Van found himself smiling.

In response to his choice, the breeze shifted, seeming to gently push the roses apart enough to create a path leading unerringly towards Escaflowne. It wasn’t exactly the most subtle of suggestions, but considering all of the other responses the Dragonslayers could have given them, this one was more than acceptable.

“I can’t leave him here.” Van continued, eyeing the pathway with open suspicion as he held the still sleeping youth tightly against his chest, large white wings wrapping about them both possessively. “I know he wants to stay, that he wants to die and be with you all forever... but I can’t. I... I promised that I’d be with him forever, that we’d build a life together.” Again he glanced down at the face which had become so precious to him and smiled tenderly. “I don’t know what sort of life we’ll have, and I know it won’t be easy, but I won’t abandon him. No matter how hard it gets. We promised right?”

Dilandau didn’t answer save to gently nuzzle against Van’s neck, though the king did notice a slight relaxing of his body, as if even in sleep, he could hear that vow.

The pathway didn’t close, the thorns didn’t suddenly pierce his flesh and more importantly, fifteen fury filled spectres didn’t suddenly appear to rip his soul out of his body. It seemed that they all wanted the same thing, for the captain to live.

“Well good.” Van stated, holding Dilandau a little closer as he began to walk towards the awaiting armour. “I’m glad we agree.” The words were superfluous but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was leaving this place of death and had managed to gain if not the approval of the Dragonslayers, at least their acceptance.

“So then,” He glanced back down at the silent form on is lap as he settled them in place on the mighty armour. “We need to get our family back together before we do anything else. I don’t suppose you could point us in the right direction?” There was no answer, not that he was surprised. Things never seemed to work out quite so simply for them.

Alright, it was up to him. He could handle this. Closing his eyes, he released a long deep breath, clearing his mind and focusing on Ignis and Irma, picturing them as best he could. He saw Irma’s strange yet ready smile paired with Ignis’ cautious glances. He felt their fierce and unconditional love as well as the total trust they held in him.

The pendulum formed in his mind, swinging lazily back and forth without direction. Dammit, he really didn’t like admitting that Dilandau was better than him at anything, fully aware that the other teen would lord it over him mercilessly. Still that didn’t change the fact that one of them had the ability to track a single person across the length and breadth of Gaea, and the other did not.

Great, so they were flying blind. Well, fine, he could handle working it out mentally. It wasn’t that hard really because there were only two possible scenarios. Either they were still in Freid, or they were going to be heading towards Fanelia as they’d originally planned. Returning to Godashim wasn’t an option, so that meant heading towards Fanelia.

“So,” He mused out loud to himself, circling high above the now softly glowing plateau, seeing the barren wasteland stretching out around them. “We need to find a place to make camp for a day or two so they can catch up to us... or until you wake up and can point us in the right direction.” Hmph, easier said than done. They had no supplies with them other than the clothes on their back and Escaflowne. No weapons, no water and nothing to make camp.

If they were in a forest, he’d be able to make due, and he was sure that Dilandau could likely do the same, but out here, there was nothing but rocks, lichen and a rather large bush of possibly homicidal roses.

As if to underscore their current problems, Van felt the wind begin to pick up, his feathers noting the cooler air and the heavy moisture contained within. A quick glance over his shoulder showed a rather unfriendly storm heading in their direction. It was still an hour or so away, but if they didn’t have some sort of shelter by then, they’d be forced to huddle together under Escaflowne’s wing. While it might sound initially romantic, he knew that Dilandau was in no shape to survive a cold camp. He needed water badly, followed by shelter or his already strained body simply wasn’t going to survive the night.

Even as he began to grit his teeth, frantically looking around for a river or stream, the pendulum in his mind began to spin around, pulling his attention towards his right. Shifting the armour into a better stream of wind, he quickly began to scan their surroundings, wondering what had caught his interest.

Nothing. Nothing but barren wasteland and rubble. There was no water to speak of and no sign of animal life either, at least none he knew how to identify. Still, the feeling persisted that there was something here, something important.

Heaving a loud sigh of frustration, he glanced up at the clouds once again, trying to estimate just how bad this storm was going to be and if flying above it was going to be possible.

A dark shadow within the clouds gave him pause and the king frowned slightly. It was far larger than a leviship, also too slow. It seemed to be moving at the same speed as the clouds surrounding it, easily missed unless the viewer happened to know what they were looking at. Unfortunately, it was something Van was all too familiar with... a floating fortress.

But... that was impossible! A huge part of the war reparations was the dismantling of the Zaibach war machine, specifically their massive flying fortresses and all accompanying airships. It had been so thorough that only a few simple leviships were permitted to remain in the country, in the hands of a select group of nobles. You could count the number using the fingers of just one hand, and still have fingers left over. There was no way one of the huge flying weapons platforms had escaped the cull.

Still, despite what his mind insisted was impossible, the dark blotch continued to float there, defying all reality with it’s existence.

Was it really so hard to believe though? Van found himself musing as he altered his path in order to cautiously circle the floating behemoth. After all, several prominent sorcerers had escaped punishment and found way to continue their disgusting experiments. It’s possible that one of their fortresses had also been overlooked during the chaos of the war’s aftermath. The important question now became why?

After so many near endless colours of going out of his way to avoid the ominous ships, it was with no small amount of trepidation that Van continued is approach. Wary eyes studied the ship as he drew closer and details slowly became visible.

He could easily make out the many signs of battle along it’s exterior. There were several chunks missing from the levistone itself and scoring along the side of the ship in several places. The normally pristine war banners were little more than badly burned scraps, their filthy tatters flapping wildly in their moorings, the normally vibrant colours fading from exposure. Several of the lifelines which trailed across the many exposed catwalks had snapped and now whipped about. Most telling of all however was the terrible scorching all along one side of the fortress.

This ship had seen the final battle and been close enough to the detonation of the Basram bomb to leave it’s lethal kiss. The heat must have been intense to leave marks like that, though it seemed that it had been sheltered enough from the worst of it to still maintain the ability to fly.

That left the next big question. Was the crew still there?

So far, the ship appeared to be derelict, and the closer Van flew, the more he believed this was the case. There were no lights in the windows, no repairs being carried out and most importantly, no swarm of alseides pouring out to greet them with fire and crima claws.

Though each pass they made around the fortress seemed to confirm its abandonment, Van couldn’t help but remember Dilandau’s words so long ago that a crew would never abandon a floating fortress. It simply wasn’t an option seeing as how they were purposefully lacking ways to evacuate all their personnel. Dilandau claimed that it was to ensure that the crew was properly motivated to defend the strategically valuable warships over their own lives, but Van simply saw it as just another example of fanaticism pushed to the extreme.

Well, he’d wanted shelter, and this monstrosity was up high enough to avoid the worst of the storm’s might. More importantly, it might still have working facilities, like water and food. Two things they rather desperately needed.

Of course, if the fortress was still inhabited, he really hoped that Dilandau wasn’t holding a grudge over his treatment in Freid. He really didn’t want to end up thrown in a cell for a few days without sustenance, just to even some nonexistent personal score.

The main cargo bay doors were still open, and by the looks of it had been open since the war, waiting to retrieve their returning troops. They were wide enough to easily fit Escaflowne though landing proved to be a tad tricky what with the high altitude winds whipping around the hangar, a thin layer of frost coating everything and the scattered debris littering the floor.

The ship had obviously gotten a good jolt from the initial explosion because work stations were scattered everywhere. An alseides which had been undergoing repair had broken free from it’s mooring clamp and fallen over, wires lay scattered about like sunning snakes and a catwalk had collapsed, preventing Escaflowne from entering too far into the hangar depths.

Still, no one charged in to capture them and there weren’t any alarms being sounded, so Van considered that to be a good sign.

Sending his wings away removed some of the drag from the buffeting wind, though he had to clutch Dilandau tightly as he slid from the back of Escaflowne. Picking his way across the floor wasn’t much of a picnic either, made worse by Dilandau’s damn wings dragging everywhere. To make matters even more difficult, that thick layer of frost, created some rather treacherous footing and added to the deadly chill. Clearly they couldn’t simply stay here, they had to get inside.

Naturally, that was more easily said that done, not that Van was at all surprised at this point. Of course it would be difficult, that’s simply how things worked for the two of them. They seemed to bring their own brand of bad luck wherever they went.

Behold the evidence. An unconscious dragonslayer doing his best impression of an unwieldy sack of rocks, the slick floor, the blowing wind, the lethal drop and now they found themselves greeted by a solid metal door with no latches, hinges or knobs to speak of. It was identical to the magical door beneath the astorian palace and likely required some sort of strange code or magic to open.

Unwilling to accept defeat quite so easily, Van took a few moments to adjust Dilandau in his arms, getting jabbed several times by elbows which seemed to be everywhere and somehow getting a wing in the mouth. After several minutes lost spitting out feathers and glaring at the offending draconian, he had a hand free to press against the panel the way he had in the scholar’s rooms.

Nothing happened.

Really, at this point, why was he even surprised? What exactly had he been expecting? Still, that didn’t quite stop him from mashing his hand against the stupid panel several times, pushing the little squares in various patterns before finally swearing under his breath and just hitting the damn thing. Why couldn’t Zaibach use normal doors like normal people!??! Oh, of course, he’d forgotten, it was because they were psychotic, evil and far too obsessed with their precious technology to ever bother with something as mundane as a stupid door!

“UGH! I hate your country! You know that right? Yeah, of course you know, you’re likely killing yourself laughing right now.” Van glanced down at the unconscious body in his arms, doing a rather poor job of holding onto his annoyance.

“Fine,” He huffed loudly. “I don’t suppose that you’re going to wake up and be useful are you?” Rather than be at all helpful, Dilandau instead nuzzled a little more against Van’s chest, listening to his heart beating in time with his own.

Alright, as much as he was loathe to admit it, when he was out cold, silent and not currently causing massacres, the dragonslayer captain was rather adorable.

“Dilandau?” Yeah, his voice hitched in a rather unmanly fashion when that nuzzling caused roughened lips brushed across his nipple, but at least he didn’t drop the dragonslayer.

As much as he’d rather just let the albino sleep off his most recent misadventures, he was rather sure that without his experience, they were going to end up freezing to death in the damn hangar because of that stupid door. Zaibach technology was simply far too alien for the king to understand given their current time frame.

With that in mind... and sending up a little prayer to any god who might be listening, Van really hoped that Dilandau was over his strange hallucinations and REALLY prayed that he was over his homicidal rampage. Giving the unconscious warlord a gentle shake, he was rewarded with a soft moan as that slender body writhed against him in a rather enticing manner for all of about five seconds.

Pale lashes fluttered and eyes opened wide without any further warning. The pupils were so blown that they reduced the crimson iris to little more than a thin red ring and Van was pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign. Unsure of what his reception would be, the king tried to prepare himself for every possible outcome, but he was still caught by surprise when a rock hard fist collided with his jaw.

Oh that was it! Dropping the dragonslayer to the ground, the king cupped the side of his face and quickly hopped out of range as a foot lashed out at his legs, intending to knock him down to the deck with his psychotic attacker.

“SONOFA-”

‘How DARE you be so familiar with me!” Dilandau snarled up at him with all the fury of an angry dragon. “Remember your place soldier!”

Was he bleeding? He was pretty sure he was bleeding. Dammit, what the hell was that crap they’d given him? Who in their right mind gave powerful mind altering substances to insane teenagers!? Silently, Van swore that if Chid was here in front of him at this moment, he’d kick the little brat for making his life just that much more complicated.

Making sure to stay well out of reach, just in case Dilandau chose to press his attack, Van leaned against the broken alseides and waited for the room to stop spinning while he let the other youth rant and rave himself to exhaustion.

Most of what he was yelling out was in zaibachi, sounding more like angry gibberish than anything constructive, but Van managed to catch enough words to guess that he was giving rather detailed descriptions of how he was going to kill, maim or otherwise destroy whatever imagined offending party caught his attention.

“Shesta! Bring me some damn wine!” Dilandau snapped, finally interrupting himself and holding his hand out expectantly for the apparently proffered alcohol. Van stared in morbid fascination as the other teen completely changed his demeanour from foaming at the mouth fury to barely contained irritation.

Allowing his “glass” to be filled, those not quite right eyes surveyed his imaginary audience of dragonslayers before taking a deep swallow.

“Now I want to hear your reports, keep it concise and don’t bother me with useless excuses. Gatti, you’d better have one hell of a good explanation as to why one of our units is damaged.” He gestured angrily towards the fallen alseides Van was leaning against, causing the king to straighten up self consciously. “Are you trying to make our unit look incompetent?” That dangerous tone gave his voice a razor edge and Van was more than a little relieved that those maddened eyes weren’t focusing on him at this moment.

Instead, he seemed to be listening to less than convincing explanations from his second in command, a growing sneer twisting his lips as he idly sipped at his wine. Any minute now, he was going to try to hit one of his hallucinations and Van honestly wanted to see how that was going to work out for him.

Taking another sip of his “wine”, Dilandau paused for a moment, something dark passing across his face before he looked down at his hands and the glass his damaged mind told him he held. Fury bled away into horror as pale skin took on a greyish hue. Disbelieving eyes grew wide with disgust and with a sharp shriek, Dilandau threw his invisible cup away from him before falling to his knees, dry heaving violently, one hand pressed tightly against his chest while the other held him up.

“No... no please no.” He gasped out, staring down at the floor at something only he could see. “It’s not wine...” A hand was roughly wiped across his mouth but it seemed to do little to alleviate his horror.

Slowly, as if dreading what he might see, Dilandau looked up at the men he was convinced stood in front of him, watching him, waiting for him.

“Why? Why did you leave me?” Reaching out a trembling hand, is voice was little more than a whisper, barely heard over the endless shriek of the wind. Trying to grab onto the ephemeral forms of the dragonslayers, all he could do was watch as they faded away, breaking apart one after another like mist at the first rays of sun, forever beyond his reach. “Come back! Don’t leave me alone!!”

A broken sob tore through him and all of the potential violence suddenly flushed out of him, leaving the teen to curl in on himself, his arms wrapping around his legs as he buried his face against them.

“No... no no nonnono. Not again... please not again. I’ll be good, I’ll behave... don’t take them away again.” Unsure of what to do, Van took a tentative step towards his fallen lover, hoping that he wasn’t going to make things worse, but knowing that the dragonslayer needed something to ground himself. “No... no I can’t be weak. Weakness is uselessness and Zaibach doesn’t tolerate useless things.” Dilandau grit his teeth, his fingers tangled in his hair and his wings wrapped around himself protectively as he began to chant some sort of mantra softly to himself. “Isolation is strength. I stand alone, burdened by none, beholden to none. Free of chains I enter battle. My victories are my own and my strength unquestioned...”

Pain filled Van’s heart as he heard the words and the loneliness beneath them. How many times had a young Dilandau repeated that in his tiny dark cell until he believed them utterly? How long had it been before he’d dared to let anyone so much as crack the fortress around his heart? Did he still believe all of that nonsense deep down in his soul?

Despite how much as Van wanted to scoff at the idea, he couldn’t quite banish the image of Dilandau trapped in that Freid cell for three long days. No food or water, waiting loyally for a rescue which would never come. How long before he’d begun drawing parallels to how Celena had clung to the desperate hope that Allen would come for her?

In the end, Van hadn’t gotten him out of that cell, but he believed in his heart that he might have saved him from something so much worse.

As if he could hear the king’s thoughts, Dilandau suddenly stiffened like wild animal which had just scented danger on the wind. His head shot up, nostrils flaring slightly as those deluded eyes fixed on Van with singular focus.

The fine dark hairs along Van’s arms stood on end and he could actually feel the warning tingle of energy sizzle through the chill air of the hangar. The feathers about both their necks glowed brightly in response, putting the fanelian immediately on his guard.

“VAN!” He didn’t dare move, not until he knew what sort of reception awaited him in the others deranged mind. Being punched in the face once was more than enough for one day, not to mention everything else he’d already been through.

Either not noticing, or more likely not caring about Van’s guarded reaction, Dilandau lunged forward quick as a striking snake and grabbed onto the king’s hand tightly. Those huge dark wings opened wide, flapping frantically and creating a maelstrom of absolute chaos within the already cluttered hangar. Scattered tools spun around, threatening to get underfoot and Van could barely keep his balance on the icy floor. Still, Dilandau refused to let up. If nothing else, he seemed to be tugging even harder.

Did this guy never get tired? Honestly, this was getting ridiculous. Still, Dilandau’s panic was infectious and Van could actually feel his own heart hammering against his ribs as adrenaline began pumping through his veins.

“Van! Hurry! They’re coming! We have to hide!” Oh good, they were allies again, only now his problem was whether or not to go along with this newest drug induced delirium. Still, hiding did sound like a good idea because he could once again see that pendulum deep in his mind spinning wildly in warning, only this time it was pointing all around them.

A sharp tug that nearly knocked him off his feet made his decision obvious. There was no arguing with the dragonslayer while he was this far gone. It was better to go along with him and do his best to steer him away from anything too dangerous. Currently, dangerous seemed to mostly involve those yawning hangar doors and the lethal drop beyond. In Dilandau’s current state, he didn’t trust him to be able to fly properly, and trying to catch him mid air should he fall wasn’t a viable option either.

“We need to get inside. They won’t find us in there.” He felt dirty saying it, like he was taking advantage of the other teen’s degenerated mental state, but those wide dark eyes seemed to light up at his statement and Dilandau nodded his head wildly in agreement.

“They’re coming Van, can’t you feel them?” That fierce intensity was back in Dilandau’s eyes, only this time he was staring at the sky, radiating a mix of yearning and horror, reminding Van of how he’d always looked at Shroden. “I can hear them calling, promising... They’re so hungry... always so hungry.”

The last words were gasped out as Dilandau once again collapsed to his knees, releasing Van in order to wrap his hands around his stomach in pain.

“Hurry.” He gasped, digging his fingers into his abdomen as if he were trying to claw out his own innards.

“I can’t open the door!” Van shot back, alternating his attention between searching the sky beyond the hangar for those telltale winged shapes, and monitoring Dilandau’s degenerating condition.

“The door?” For a moment, it looked like Dilandau had no clue what Van was talking about. There was a blankness in his eyes which was at odds with the panic he’d seen only moments ago.

“Yes, the door you idiot. Get us through the door! You know how this stupid piece of garbage works!” Alright, in hindsight, calling Dilandau an idiot likely wasn’t the best strategy.

Forgetting his other worries, the dragonslayer went from panicked to homicidal in the blink of an eye. With a shriek that sounded almost identical to Kamata, the albino launched himself at Van, fully ready to tear him apart piece by piece over the insult.

There was little coordination behind the attack and Van caught his wrists, allowing the captain’s momentum to send him backwards. Planting a foot on Dilandau’s abdomen, he kicked out sharply, sending the dragonslayer across the hangar where he hit the floor and slid on the slick metal for several feet before laying there stunned.

“No attacking me dammit!” Van snarled, quickly getting his own feet under him, preparing for round two. It certainly wasn’t helping that he could still see that pendulum spinning in warning, refusing to narrow down the direction of the danger. Maybe it meant Dilandau himself? Honestly, that really wouldn’t be at all surprising at this point.

“They’re coming... so close, so hungry...” Dilandau ranted, slipping around on the floor, hindered by his wings which seemed to be throwing his balance off. “Close, so close. Can you hear them? Tear and rip and bite and rend. Feeding on the bones of the world.” Suddenly freezing in place, the dragonslayer looked up at Van, a wide and wholly unhinged grin spreading across his face. “Join us Van, feast with us! It’s coming. Soon we’ll glut ourselves and never be hungry again!” The words sent shivers down the king’s spine and they certainly weren’t helped by the fact that Dilandau’s pupils were so wide they made his eyes look black. Black as they had this morning in Godashim.

Taking a deep breath, fully aware that he could lose more than a finger or two, Van slowly, carefully approached the insane youth. Those manic eyes watched him but the pale teen didn’t flinch away as the king gently touched his cheek with a fingertip.

“We need to get inside Dilandau.” He murmured, unsure if it was a good thing when the other youth leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. The wild grin faded, becoming a gentle and almost blissful smile, but Van refused to drop his guard. He’d seen the others mood shift far too quickly to trust this momentary calm. “Can you open the door for us?”

Slowly the head cupped against his palm nodded and those pale lashes fluttered open, revealing wide and guileless eyes. There was so much open trust in their depths that for a moment, Dilandau wasn’t even recognizable.

“Vaaaaaan.”

“Yeah, Van. Your friend Van. Open the door for me Dilandau?” Again there was a slight pause, as if the dragonslayer was trying to understand what he was saying, then slowly, the head nodded in affirmation and the beatific smile grew wider, more hopeful, like a child seeking praise.

“The... the door?”

“Yeah, will you open it for us? It would make me happy.” Gods of Gaea, he felt sick saying it like that. It made him all to aware of the albino’s screwed up mental state and it certainly didn’t help when the pale youth lit up like the sun at his words. Scrambling out of Van’s arms, Dilandau ran towards the door and tapped in a series of buttons on the metal pad.

As before, it seemed to have no effect, but undaunted, Dilandau tapped in another code, this one much more elaborate, causing is fingers to dance across the pad. Still no reaction.

Those dark eyes narrowed for a moment in confusion but he was far from beaten. Rather than begin punching the console or screaming out a series of threats which Van honestly sort of expected from him, he turned away from the door and headed to a nearby wall.

Worried that the dragonslayer had again lost track of where he was and what he was doing, Van opened his mouth to try to get him focused once more, but closed it with an audible snap when he saw the other teen open up a panel on the wall.

Inside was a rat’s nest of multicoloured wires wrapped around glass spindles and more buttons than Van felt like trying to count. There was no way that Dilandau would be able to make sense out of any of that, it was impossible.

“Dilandau... what are you doing?” He found himself asking, unable tear his gaze away from the mass of wires, wondering if the dragonslayer was going to crash a third ship on them.

“It’s a system short.” Oh good, that reply was almost sane sounding. Maybe the drugs had finally run their course and he could stop worrying for his life at least on one front. “There’s power on the other side, but it doesn’t feel right. I think it’s just on basic auxiliary systems right now.”

“How do you know that?” It sounded like an innocent question as far as he was concerned, but apparently it rankled the pale captain because the taller teen drew himself up to his full height, radiating that familiar arrogance as his wings arched regally behind him.

“Firstly and most obviously, because the door isn’t covered in frost. At this elevation it would be, just like everything else here if nothing is running. There’s life support at the very least.” He gestured irritably with his hand, a sneer twisting his lips. Van wasn’t sure what he meant by life support but he honestly didn’t want to know at this point. It was just one more thing with the potential of failing on them. “Secondly, you can still feel the engines. It’s faint, but there.” Motioning for Van to touch the door, the king did so cautiously. “And last but most obviously, because we’re up at cloud level. Levistones never fly so high on their own. Also, if you look around there’s no sign of the frost melting then reforming over and over again, meaning that this ship has been staying at a stable elevation. Seriously, what’s with you? This is basic Academy knowledge.”

“Academy?” He glanced over at the dragonslayer in confusion, unsure of the unfamiliar word. Well, it seemed as if they weren’t quite out of the woods yet in regards to the drugs. Now the trick was figuring out what new brand of madness this was so he didn’t set off another attack.

Thankfully, Dilandau seemed to have become focused on the panels and its heavily wired innards because he was paying little enough attention to Van, leaving him in peace to cautiously explore the door.

The metal was icy cold to his tentative touch, its bite still felt all too keenly even through the callouses on his fingertips. Worse, it all too easily brought to mind memories of that damn table, making him want to quickly yank his hand away as if burned. There was no need to look over to see if the young captain was covertly watching him. He could feel the weight of Dilandau’s eyes on him and as a result, forced himself to hold the contact and focus on what he could feel beneath the cold.

The vibrations were faint, easily missed if you didn’t know what to look for, but still present and steady. It seemed that the pale teen was right and there was power. More importantly, if there was power, that meant that somewhere on this rock, there was likely heat. Van was also willing to bet that there was probably also sustenance in some form or other. There was no way a floating fortress wouldn’t be well stocked.

“Do you really know how to fix this?” Van couldn’t help but ask as he backed away from the door in favour of hovering over the dragonslayer’s shoulder, trying to see if there was some sort of system to the seemingly endless tangle of wires. Once again, he was met with a narrow eyed glare of doom and quickly backpedalled. “I mean, we don’t have all the right tools on hand, right?” That seemed to mollify Dilandau somewhat.

“Honestly Gatti, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today.” Ah, of course, they were playing this game again. “I might not be Dallet or Ryuun, but I can figure out how to circumvent a damn short. Ugh, I told Folken not to run these stupid drills when we’re out on manoeuvres. What if there had been an emergency? We’d be wasting precious time with this stupidity of his when one of my men could be hurt!” At least he sounded genuinely furious over that prospect. “I should make you do it for doubting my ability, but I don’t want to be here all afternoon.”

Oh Van wanted to argue that, but he was fully aware that he knew even less than Gatti did about electronics.

“Pass me the open ended spanner, a pair of needle nose pliers and some clamps.” Yup, not a single word in those instructions beyond “pass me” made a lick of sense and it must have shown on the king’s face because Dilandau shot him a look of utter disgust. “Bathroom duty, two weeks.” He growled ominously. “Your spare time will be spent apprenticing under Maki for the next colour and the next time I tell you I want a tool, I expect you to be able to rattle off our entire inventory without a single moment of hesitation. Do I make myself clear lieutenant?”

Van had no idea what exactly bathroom duty entailed, but it was likely rather unpleasant in the extreme if Dilandau had opted to give that as punishment instead of a beating.

“Perfectly clear.....sir.” He added the honorific the instant he saw those cold eyes narrow in warning.

Thankfully, Dilandau seemed to have felt that he’d made his point because he glanced around the floor until he found what Van supposed were the tools he’d been looking for. Shooting the king another dark look filled with suspicion, he began working on the wiring, using the tools with obvious familiarity.

He worked in silence for several long minutes, the only sound being from the howling of the wind and the clicking of tools. Van was so focused on watching the door, fully expecting to see black wings and fanged mouths that he didn’t realize anything was wrong until the sharp sound of a tool hitting the floor made him spin around, hand reaching for a sword that wasn’t there.

Dilandau leaned against the panel, head down, arms braced against the cold metal and holding him up while his body trembled and shook. Those beautiful dark wings drooped low, the long pinions dragging on the floor as if he no longer had the power to lift them up.

“Dilandau....” He reached out a hand to offer comfort then paused, remembering how violently his previous touch had been rebuked.

“They’re gone aren’t they?” His voice was little more than a whisper, but the pain in it spoke volumes. “I can’t hear them, I can’t hear anyone. Those monks took it all away. They left me with silence and madness.”

“Dilandau,” Damn it all, he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing when his friends soul was bleeding like this. It was worth a few bruises if it helped lessen the others pain. “They’re still here, I know they are. You just probably can’t hear them until whatever they gave you runs its course.” He really hoped that’s what it was, because any other alternative was just too harsh to consider.

“It’s so quiet... like nothing is real, like I never left that cell.” A pale head tilted slightly as Dilandau glanced at Van over his shoulder, pale lashes bright against the darkness of his eyes. “I did leave it, didn’t I?” He asked softly, his voice never raising above a whisper. “I’m real?”

“You’re real Dilandau.” Van stepped forward, gently tracing the edge of one of those beautiful wings with his fingertips, watching the colours trapped within each feather scintillate from his touch. “We both are. I promise you.”

“I thought I was real, I tried so hard to be... but my Master showed me that I wasn’t. It was just an illusion, a pretty lie to tell myself when the pain became too much. I... I thought when we left him that I could try... that I could build something new, something real... but it was taken from me too.”

Frowning at the dark words, Van slid his hand up along the delicate bones of of the wing, refusing to break contact. He traced a path along those silken feathers until he reached that pale trembling shoulder. Then very deliberately, he forced the dragonslayer to turn around and face him, staring into those dilated eyes as if they held in their depths, everything that was important to the young king.

Unable to look away, Dilandau stared right back at him, nervously chewing on his lower lip, causing the dry skin to crack and bleed slightly. If it hurt, he showed no awareness of it, but the sight of those bright beads of blood made Van reach out a hand and gently cup that pale unscarred cheek. His thumb lightly brushed across those lips, smearing a stripe of crimson across their surface as he pulled it away from those teeth.

“You haven’t lost everything.” Van replied confidently, leaning forward slowly, his eyes never leaving Dilandau’s as he deliberately pressed their lips together. The touch was light but the dragonslayer gasped loudly, as if a shock had burst through him.

Moments later, the tools, the panel, even the yawning abyss only a few costa away were forgotten as strong fingers tangled in Van’s hair, pulling his head forward into another kiss, this one fierce and searing. He could feel it all the way down into his toes and the soft moan Dilandau made against his lips.... Gods of Gaea, that sound should be illegal!

It didn’t matter that normally silken soft lips were rough and dry or that the drugs had left an odd taste to Dilandau’s mouth, smothering the familiar flames and vino with a thick licorice taste. The kiss was mind blowing, so full of passion and desperate need that Van couldn’t help but respond.

“Make love to me Van.” Dilandau breathed across his lips, one still hopelessly tangled in his hair while the other slid down along the king’s sides, scratching lightly with the edge of a fingernail. “Make me real.” It was impossible to resist those words, doubly so when the dragonslayer began to lightly bite along his throat, sucking at honey dark skin hungrily.

“You’re real.” The king gasped as he pressed the dragonslayer against the wall. Those long slender legs wrapped around his waist, allowing Van to press himself intimately against that warm and inviting body. Still wearing little more than that thin wolfkin kilt, there was nothing holding them back from consummating their mutual desire but a thin layer of cloth, easily pushed aside.

Van could feel the heat of that delicious body and thrilled at how those powerful muscles tightened as Dilandau rolled his hips, creating the most amazing friction and making them both tremble in desperate desire.

“Say that again Van.” Dilandau all but groaned softly, fingernails scratching along the base of his spine as his body writhed deliciously against the king’s. “Tell me I’m real.”

Speech was impossible for a few moments as the dragonslayer’s lips claimed his own, that ruthless and skillful tongue delving deep into his mouth, exploring every inch hungrily until Van’s head spun. Whether from lack of oxygen or sheer mind blowing pleasure, he really didn’t care and honestly didn’t have enough blood going to his brain to be able to work it out. Only when they briefly parted for air was Van able to gasp out the desired words.

“You’re real.” He murmured again, amazed that he was still capable of speech. His entire mouth tingled from the energy of their kiss and every nerve in his body sang. “So gloriously perfectly real.” The way Dilandau lit up at the words, you’d have thought that Van had promised him a village to burn or grand battle to join. He practically glowed from within and his wings trembled in pleasure, wrapping around them both, cocooning them in warmth.

“Tell me I’m beautiful.” Pale lips whispered, brushing against his own lightly, sending sparks down Van’s spine and causing him to moan in pleasure.

“You’re beautiful.” The king couldn’t help but breathlessly reply, feeling hard flesh press against his own in a way which could only be described as utterly glorious. “Beautiful and brilliant and cruel. You’re absolutely perfect Dilandau Albatou.” The dragonslayer practically melted at the words, those snowy white lashes fluttering closed even as his cheeks flushed. Van could feel the pleasure radiating off of him at those words

“Then why aren’t you inside me already?” He could make out the glint of crimson beneath those pale lashes as Dilandau leaned forward, playfully biting his lower lip even as a hand reached down between their undulating bodies to stroke Van’s trapped length teasingly.

Oh he wanted to, desperately didn’t even begin to describe how badly he wanted to bury himself as deeply as possible in that incredible body, but somehow Van was still clinging to his priorities.

Dilandau might not be aware of how precarious his health was, but Van was. He could feel how dry his lover’s mouth was, how much cooler his body was compared to his own and he certainly hadn’t overlooked how uncoordinated the dragonslayer’s earlier attack had been. He needed medical care badly, failing that, he needed water, food and rest. None of which he was going to search for on his own. It was once again up to Van to be their collective common sense.

Of course, refusing the albino’s advances was likely going to result in either another bout of violence or send Dilandau into yet another downward spiral of delusion. This required delicate strategy worthy of Folken himself... ugh, note to self: Never EVER think of Folken while kissing Dilandau. It was just too many levels of wrong.

“Mmm priorities.” Van murmured, seizing another kiss before tangling is own fingers in that normally wonderful hair, noticing for the first time how filthy it actually was. Sweat and oil had darkened the silvery white locks to an almost steel grey while pieces had clumped together, matted with old blood.

For a moment, Van pulled back slightly, realizing just how grimy and sick looking his lover actually was. Dark shadows turned his eyes into hollow looking pits, normally lustrous skin was dull and seemed to have a sort of papery quality to it. He could see where sweat and dust had dried, not to mention the rather surprising assortment of minor burns dotting his body, reddening the pale flesh.

More importantly, there was no polite way to say that after three days in a prison cell, the dragonslayer was more than a little ripe. This had likely been worsened by the wholesale slaughter he’d indulged in during his escape, not to mention thrashing around on the bloody ground beneath Escaflowne’s talons.

Silently, Van added a bath to the list of things he was going to foist upon the unsuspecting dragonslayer. Considering his normally fastidious behaviour, Dilandau would likely thank him for that once his brain was no longer in a semi liquid state.

“First we need to get that door open.” He murmured between kisses, deftly catching Dilandau’s straying hand in his own and pressing it firmly against the wall. “Then, we’re going to have some water, food and a bath.” Teeth teasingly nibbled on his lower lip, weakening his resolve as that glorious body pressed against his own, hot and hardened flesh ground against his own arousal, making his knees threaten to give out. It was hardly surprising that Dilandau wasn’t cooperating. Since when did he ever make anything easy? Still, it was his hope that with a full stomach, a hot bath should quickly put the amorous warrior to sleep, allowing him to let the drugs in his system run their course with little danger to them both. Besides, he was pretty sure that this classed as taking advantage of someone. It didn’t matter that they were already lovers, if Dilandau’s brain couldn’t focus on the different between reality and his own twisted delusions, then he was in no shape to consent to intimacy.

After all the other teen had been through, Van was never going to push that line.

“Mmm Folken would be furious if he walked in on us right now.” Aaaand if there was any doubt as to Dilandau’s mental health, that statement pretty much proved it. Still, Van really could have gone a few more lifetimes without hearing the teasing amusement behind those words.

“I thought you hated public displays of affection?” Gods of Gaea, he had no idea that Dilandau knew how to giggle like that. It was a soft, evil little sound, so heavy with seductive mischief that Van felt something deep inside his groin clench.

Fully aware of the effect he’d just had on Van, Dilandau kissed him one last time, it was slow, sensual and so full of silent promise that the king actually whimpered when those long legs finally released his hips. Standing on his own once more, the dragonslayer flashed Van a heated smile before turning back to the panel, acting for all the world as if they hadn’t just been frantically groping each other moments before.

“Oh I do.” Dilandau admitted readily, motioning for Van to pick up his dropped tool with an imperious hand motion. “But the risk of getting caught is a wonderful aphrodisiac don’t you think?” How had the Dragonslayers survived under this cruel and vicious beast? No wonder they were always in such a bad mood, half of them were likely suffering from a terminal case of blue balls! “Besides, Folken’s face would be so perfectly priceless if he walked in on us.”

At least the volatile albino seemed to have taken the rejection well enough and rather than beating Van into a bloody pulp, he was focused once again on the damn panel. This left Van to deal with his raging erection all on his own.

Handing the other teen the indicated tool, the fanelian king stalked around the cavernous hangar, looking for anything to distract himself from the near agonizing heat in his groin.

Something wasn’t right here and he had no idea what it was. Sure, the pendant in his mind continued to spin around in endless circles, refusing to point in any particular direction. It wasn’t much of a help other than keeping him on edge. Maybe it was the fact that he was once again standing in a Zaibach Floating Fortress, a place not exactly known for it’s hospitality, especially where he was concerned.

Speaking of, where was everyone? Their view of the exterior had made it clear that no one was doing anything towards the upkeep of the ship and no one had come to investigate their intrusion. Was the crew really so lackadaisical? He doubted that from all of Dilandau’s rantings about Zaibach discipline.

Could they be hurt or sick? Was this a plague ship? Could they already be infected?

Nervously, he clutched the energist pendant hanging from his neck, noting that for once, it wasn’t glowing. Hopefully that was a good sign because he could really use a little bit of good luck right about now.

A sharp click interrupted Van’s rapidly spiralling thoughts, causing him to spin around only to see Dilandau smirking at him smugly, a pale slender hand resting on the now closed panel.

“Now then, I believe I’m owed a shower, a bottle of wine and a blowjob... not necessarily in that order.” He paused for a moment and then sniffed delicately at himself before making a face which was the very picture of disgust. “No, scrap that. Definitely in that order. Empty Fate Gatti, why didn’t you tell me I stank like week old doppelganger corpse that had been left out in the sun?”

“Likely because I’ve thankfully never smelled that before, sir.” At this point, Van saw little purpose in fighting the other teens delusions. He might as well go along with them and ensure himself a more cooperative bout of madness. “Is the door unlocked now?”

“Of course it is!” A pale pointed nose rose arrogantly while crimson eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you doubting my abilities?”

“Never. I’m just hungry sir.” If he was lucky, he might be able to get the idiot to realize his own body’s needs before he did something monumentally stupid like start drinking wine by the bottle full. He didn’t even dare imagine what alcohol would do with the garbage already poisoning his bloodstream.

To his surprise, Dilandau actually paused for a moment and licked his lips, only now realizing just how dry they were. As if a switch had been flipped, the dragonslayer was suddenly aware of the raging headache searing through his skull and the terrible aching void in his stomach.

Walking over to the door, he reached out with strangely trembling fingers to punch in his override code once more, wondering idly when he’d gotten so weak. Had he been hurt? Was he sick? Giving Gatti a suspicious glance, ensuring that his second in command hadn’t noticed the tremors of his body, he forced himself to stand up straight and headed out into the oddly cool hallway.

“Seriously? How can the heating system be acting up again? I’m going to beat the ever loving shit out of Chief Valcan. This is the bloody Zaibach flagship, not some backwater border bucket. How does Folken put up with that man?”

Van dutifully followed the muttering dragonslayer who had slipped back into speaking zaibachi now that he wasn’t addressing the king. He caught the odd phrase which promised violence in one from or another but was rather sure that this was mostly due to hearing them repeatedly rather than any significant improvement on his language skills. Truly, Dilandau must have been a delight to work with if he was so casually threatening officers on the crew. Granted, it was pretty damn cold. The metal walls seemed to magnify the chill rather than draw it away and Van was pretty sure he could see his breath.

“Where are we going... sir?” He quickly added the honorific when he noticed the sudden stiffness in the pale youth’s shoulders. Despite being on a strange ship, Dilandau seemed to know where he was going, granted, he was more than a little out of his mind. They could be utterly lost already and simply not know it.

“Stop acting like an idiot Gatti.” The other teen growled. “We report in, get debriefed then if there’s no issues needing to be dealt with, we can eat.” Favouring Van with a cool contemplative look, Dilandau huffed slightly to himself. “Then I’m sending you to the medics for a check up. You’re acting oddly. If you’re concussed and trying to hide it, I’ll bust your damn skull.”

There was no point in mentioning just how counterproductive that would be. Dilandau wouldn’t care one way or another. Instead, Van opted for rolling his eyes at the dragonslayer’s back as he dutifully followed in his wake.

Every hall and door looked identical to the one next to it. There was nothing to identify what were personal quarters, the armoury or the damn water closet. At least no way that Van could see. There were no windows to let in either natural light or give him a sense of direction and the only decorations seemed to be imperial banners of Zaibach spaced at regular intervals. It reminded Van eerily of the lab in Basram, full of inflated national pride without a single touch of human warmth. Granted, Ziabach had never really claimed to be anything different. They wore their fanatical patiotism like badges of honour.

Really, would a bit of colour or even a damn throw rug kill them? Everything here was steel grey, red and black, lit by those damn blue energist lamps. He felt almost trapped in this strange monochromatic hell. It was too much like the labs and he more than half expected to hear tortured screams coming from those unmarked rooms.

Still, Dilandau was moving with purpose, only stopping when they reached a door which was somewhat larger than the others at the end of a long hallway. Without pause, or really any thought, he quickly tapped his fingers across the metal panel box next to the door. It hissed obediently open, the hidden gears grinding only slightly from disuse.

Striding in as if he owned the ship, Dilandau was already barking out commands, orders or insults in zaibachi to those within. It seemed that he hadn’t in fact been bluffing. This was the bridge of the ship and while it wasn’t nearly as impressive as the Vione’s had been, it was still jam packed with mind boggling technology.

That wasn’t what stopped Van however, causing him to freeze at the doorway and stare in wide eyed shock at what lay within.

While the albino stalked between consoles and work stations, stomping up the bare metal stairs to what looked like a command platform overlooking the room and the huge floor to ceiling windows, without a care in the world, Van only saw the corpses.

They were everywhere, some slumped over in their chairs or sprawled on the floor. Several lay there, crumpled together and facing the door, looking as if they’d tried to flee in their last moments.

Most wore the less familiar military cloth uniforms, the cut somewhat similar to Dilandau’s leathers, only less elaborate. The metal and leather served more as accents rather than armour. Though everyone in the room was armed with swords, it was obvious that few here on the bridge expected to see any sort of physical action.

Still, there were a few men and women dressed in the familiar grey armour of infantry troops. What was worrying was that all of them has their blades drawn and gripped tightly in their hands. Even death hadn’t weakened their grips.

The corpses were old, eight colours at least... Van had little doubt that they’d been alive when the bomb had scorched their ship, though seeing as how there had been no obvious repairs done, death had followed soon after.

“It wasn’t the bomb that killed them.” He found himself murmuring softly to himself as he stared down at the nearest corpse. It was a female guard... at least he figured it was female. There were still wisps of long hair on the dry brittle skull, pulled back with a leather cord. Any features were withered away, desiccated by the cold dry air. Every bit of moisture sucked out of the body, leaving a thin stick like carapace.

Nervous now, Van knelt down to the floor, wanting a closer look. For once, his nightmarish time in the labs worked in his favour as the sight of a withered corpse had little power to repulse him. After all he’d seen, this was nothing. In fact, what worried him most was his lack of horror at the state of the corpse. What did that say about him that he could shrug off something so horrible so easily?

Pushing those nebulous worries aside in favour of more pressing issues, he continued his examination. There were no obvious wounds that he could see. The armour was clean and unmarked, the sword unbloodied. Even the flesh... such as it was looked intact, but the grimace on the corpses face was hideous. Whatever had killed them, it hadn’t been pretty.

“What do you think did this?” He looked over at Dilandau and bit back as sudden surge of nausea soaked dread. The dragonslayer was standing there on the platform, looking as cool and relaxed as he ever did, chatting away to the corpse sitting in what he assumed was the captain’s chair.

The twisted skeletal remains of the captain wore blackened armour edged with gold trim along the throat and steel shoulder guards lent an imposing illusion of strength. Sitting slumped over in the command chair, staring endlessly out through the massive windows of the ship at the vast panoramic view, managing to look both dignified and horrific all at once.

It was impossible to tell what had killed him, either the terrible burns which marked his body wherever there was exposed skin, or the fact that his body was little more than a desiccated husk. Like the others, his sword was clenched tightly in his hands though judging by the sheen on the blade, it hadn’t been drawn in time.

Eyes which had shrivelled to the sized of old raisins stared forward sightlessly. His mouth hung open, frozen forever in a silent scream and a tongue which was now little more than jerky protruded slightly out the side of his lips.

While the body didn’t move or reply at all in the conversation, (something Van was inordinately relieved to see), that didn’t seem to be stopping Dilandau at all. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice the lack of response. Instead, he simply filled in the empty conversational void the same way he did with Kamata.

Like the commander and the copse at Van’s feet, the rest of the crew were in similar states, their bodies either piled up in a corner, or slumped gracelessly over control panels. The slumped ones had died quickly, likely in the initial blast from the bomb so many colours ago. The rest... Van could almost picture them huddling together for protection, several still held onto each other or grasped ineffectively at weapons they never managed to draw.

Almost as worrisome as the bodies was the general chaos of the room. While he’d only been on the bridge of a floating fortress once... a visit which had coincided with the destruction of the Vione, he was rather sure that they were kept much more organized than this.

Several panels had been moved from their original positions and it looked as if they’d been initially dragged across the floor and placed in front of the door. Had the crew been trying to block it? If so, their efforts had failed. One of the panels had been knocked over, laying on it’s side several feet from the door. Oddly enough, there were several bodies around it, making Van wonder if they’d changed their mind in their last moments and clamoured to push it out of the way. If that was the case, they hadn’t been fast enough.

There was no sign of what they’d tried so desperately to keep out... or get away from.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered to the remains of the zaibach guard as he carefully pried the sword out of their brittle grip, wincing as he heard more than one finger break. “But I have a feeling that I need this more than you do right now.”

Normally, being armed should have made him feel more secure despite the unfamiliar shape of the curved blade. This time it didn’t. This was a room full of soldiers, trained from the time they were children to be warriors for their country, and all of them were dead. Whatever had done this had had little to fear from the small arsenal represented here.

“Come on Gatti.” The sudden sound of Dilandau’s voice made the king jump a little despite himself. “Captain Verrain has given us leave to eat and rest.” The sarcasm and contempt was obvious in his voice, as was the lack of volume control. Clearly he wasn’t worried about this captain disciplining him at all, making Van more than a tad curious as to just what exactly Dilandau’s actual rank was in the military. Were pilots held in that high regard or was it simply the whole elite unit thing? “Folken isn’t on board at the moment, so I’m spared a verbal report, but I’m sure that he’ll expect a written one from both of us when he gets back.”

The dragonslayer neatly stepped over the corpse Van had been examining, not acknowledging it’s existence at all.

Watching this display of utter obliviousness, Van had never felt so utterly alone as he did right now. Here they were, in a floating graveyard, surrounded by corpses and who knew what else but he was the only one to realize it. Whatever had happened here, it was up to him to discover the source before they met a similar fate.

“Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” He mumbled to himself despite feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “Everyone here has been dead for colours. There’s no reason for it to stick around.”

“Put your ass in gear lieutenant” Dilandau snapped from up ahead. “The longer you dawdle, the greater the chance of Dallet and Viole using up our ration of hot water and I am NOT having another ice shower!”

Dutifully, Van trailed behind him, trusting the dragonslayer to once again find their way through the ship with unerring skill that was nothing short of surreal. This was only made more so by the knowledge that there were likely bodies behind the closed doors they passed, locked alone in the darkness, the mystery of their killer dying with them.

 

 

**************************************

Everything hurt. Palos had always thought that was just a silly expression coined by lazy lowborn people who refused to accept responsibilities for their actions after a night of debauchery. He’d also thought that his handful of days spent with his innards doing their best to escape his body any way they could had been the pinnacle of torment. The bar had been raised without his approval and he desperately wished to be able to go back to those horrible disgusting filth laden hours.

Thought he’d been “conscious” for two days now, the word was used extremely generously. His world seemed to revolve around short bouts of vague awareness followed by long hours of sleep. To make matters worse, during those few moments when he was aware of the world, it was foggy, shrouded by weakness, confusion and he felt trapped in a half dream state.

Vaguely, he remembered the princess hovering over him, smelling like fragrant spring flowers and smiling at him as if he was the most important person in the world. When she told him that his body was mending itself, he didn’t doubt her words for a moment despite the raw ragged pain he felt every time he did something even as simple as breathing.

Less pleasant were the other figures he often found poking and prodding him into wakefulness. Shrill voices arguing almost constantly and the brush of fur across his skin. Beastkin, two of them. For some reason, they’d taken it upon themselves to care for him. Most of the time it was the orange one with the high shrill voice and honestly, he was more than a little scared of her. It was impossible to forget waking up that first time to seeing those sharp teeth and those wild blue eyes staring into his, promising death or worse should he anger her.

“Look you trumped up ball of fluff. I don’t care about your opinion! I’m the one who knows what they’re doing, not you. You’re just here so Gaddes can stop feeling bad about you getting picked on so sit in the corner and shut up! You’re stupid and your mouth is making that annoying noise again!” Her familiar voice cut through the haze of sleep, warning him that once more, he was not alone.

“Oh? I’m not allowed to talk now am I? Well aren’t we all high and mighty for a glorified house pet! Clearly you were too busy curling up at your Master’s feet to learn how to count because the Princess, you know, the one who knows what she’s doing only turned that knob once.” Ah, the other one was here too. Male, his voice not as shrill but still unpleasant what with that soft growl underlying most of his words.

“I did turn it once you moron!”

“You turned it twice! If he ends up exploding or something, it’s going to be your fault!”

Cracking open an eye took almost more energy than he had to spare, but it did reveal two blurry shapes standing over him. One on either side and both leaning precariously over the bed. The orange and yellow blur was the one closest to his head and he couldn’t quite repress a shudder as he remembered the first words she’d spoken to him. The threats cut through the layers of weakness and confusion.

_“_ _I will find out what I want to know. And you’re going to tell me. The longer I have to wait for my answer, the less happy I’m going to be with you.”_ There was something raw and primal about that softly hissed threat which made him fully aware that she’d meant every word of it.

Guilt warred with terror inside him as he finally recognized the blurry orange form. The Fanelian king’s pet cat girl. It had to be. He’d seen her trailing around the palace in the king’s shadow whenever he was visiting Palas. It had been the source of several rather bawdy jokes among the palace staff, not to mention many of the nobles, not that King Fanel ever noticed.

Still, there was nothing at all amusing about her fanatical devotion to the dark king, especially when she was demanding answers he didn’t dare give. Worse, he was in no shape to defend himself. She could literally take him apart piece by piece, and there was nothing he could do to stop her! Worse, he knew deep in his hear that he deserved every bit of her vengeance.

Gone... King Van was gone and it was Palos’ fault. He’d thought he’d been doing the right thing, removing the zaibach demon from their side. By the time he’d realized his mistake, it was far too late. He’d been in too deep, been too cowardly to back out and because of that, all hope was lost.

Ulan! His vile double-crossing brother was behind it all! It was clearly some petty revenge for managing to wriggle his way into royal favour above his brothers, for being noticed by Heir Dryden!

No... If he could have moved, he’d have shaken his head at the thought. Ulan was many things, but an idiot wasn’t one of them. None of those cloaked people he’d met prior to his betrayal had come across as fools and Palos would bet his life that there was far more going on than he realized. Why take King Van? Why keep Captain Albatou alive? Who was the man with the accent and why were foreigners involved?

_A voice screaming out in rage and pain, becoming two voices locked together in an unholy battle of wills. The flash of a blade, a crimson spray so hot across his face. The crest of Fanelia laying there, blood staining the delicately wrought gold._ It was so hard to focus and he was sure that for a moment, he’d drifted back into sleep.

“Shhh, don’t worry. It will all work out in the end.” A soft voice, one he hadn’t heard before. Someone was touching him, gentle fingers stroking across his brow so gently that it felt like a brush of silk against his skin.

Once more, his eyes fluttered open and he struggled to focus on the person leaning over him. The quarrelling beast kin were gone which was a small miracle in and of itself, taking with them the incessant bickering which had filled his ears even into unconsciousness.

In their place was a young woman with long honey gold hair pulled back into a severe bun. It was hard to focus on her features due to his exhaustion, but he could tell that she was pretty, soft looking and possessing an easy generous spirit. Large blue eyes crinkled slightly in the corners as she smiled warmly, no doubt realizing that he was now awake.

“It’s alright.” She murmured in a soft high pitched voice. “I sent those awful beasts away. Honestly, I don’t know what people were thinking, allowing animals to care for someone as sick and injured as you. It’s an insult really, but pay it no mind.” Her smile grew wider as she continued to brush his hair back from his face with tender touches, reminding him of his nursemaid long long ago. “Your father, Lord Varinth sent me to look after you and tend to your needs.”

The warm fingers pulled away for a moment and a cup full of deliciously cool water was brought into his field of vision. The reed straw fit neatly against his lips and he took several careful sips, noting that this time, it barely hurt his throat at all to swallow. Still, the simple action exhausted him and he felt his eyelids growing heavy once more.

“Don’t worry Lord Palos, you’re in good hands.” The cup was taken away and he saw her reach towards him once more. Rather than resuming her gentle touches, she instead held something new in her hand and upon seeing it, Palos struggled to pull back, dread filling him in a sickening wave.

In the palm of her hand, hidden from casual view by anyone but him, was a purple stone, identical to the one he’d held so dear until the moment his throat had been slit by supposed allies. The stone his would be killer had casually pocketed with hands still wet with his blood.

“We still have use of you Lord Palos, and I trust that you see the value in our continued relationship.” While her smile was wide and welcoming, the noble understood the message loud and clear. He was at their mercy and they were fully capable of exposing his treachery against King Van and Captain Albatou. While the latter might be forgiven in light of the demon’s long list of crimes, he’d no doubt be executed for his actions against the Fanelian king.

“Yes,” The woman continued softly, tucking the stone away from sight once more. “You’re in very good hands.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo yeah. Drugs are bad Mkay? Stoned out psychopaths really aren't safe to be around and hey, total kudos to Van for keeping it together.  
> I really love writing the Dragonslayers. Even as ghosts, they're wonderful little scene stealers and I do like the idea of there being a massive patch of roses blooming eternally over their graves.... until it's revealed that poor Ryuun is allergic. Heh.  
> I think I wrote the flying fortress scene about five times before I was satisfied. I kept following Dilandau's perspective as he chatted with the bodies while Van watched in horror, trying unsuccessfully to snap him back into lucidity. I was also going to have them get a little more intimate in the hangar until I realized that Dilandau had to absolutely reek at that point and likely was about as sexy as possible. Also, as Drkstars pointed out, there's no way Van would take advantage of the little nut job when he wasn't in his right mind.  
> Next Chapter: Sometimes violence IS the answer.


	21. Symmetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van explores the floating fortress and finds more than he bargained for. Allen is faced with a terrible decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY summer is here! This makes me so insanely happy! I wanted to thank the people who commented on this story and especially those who found me on Tumblr to chat. I love meeting new people! Also, I've been floored by all the amazing Esca art popping up online ^_^ It says so much that a show which played 25 years ago in another country has managed to touch us all so deeply that we still pay homage to it decades later. WOOOT to Escaflowne!

Letting out a deep breath, Van leaned against the door and ran his fingers through his damp hair, indulging in the rare luxury of closing his eyes for a few moments. The near silence surrounded him, broken only by the soft breathing of the dragonslayer’s sleeping form on the nearby bed.

The room had been a lucky find as far as he was concerned. It was large, well furnished and rather comfortable which was impressive in and of itself considering the zaibachi love of utilitarianism. More importantly, there were no bodies. It said a lot about the current state of his life when that was considered to be a situational bonus.

Sure, there was one of those ever present banners hanging over the bed, proving that patriotism never slept, but Van was willing to ignore it in favour of the fact that it was a comfortably secure room with an attached and rather well appointed bathing room. There was even a small meeting room and an office connected, creating a rather lovely set of suites.

He was pretty sure that these were the commander’s rooms, and judging by the mischievous snickers which had come out of Dilandau when they’d entered, that seemed to be the case. At least the dragonslayer hadn’t seemed to object to breaking into the private refuge of a superior officer. In fact, he seemed far too delighted by the prospect.

Favouring Dilandau with a slight smile of exasperation, Van glanced over at the still figure laying there, wondering what sort of trouble he’d be causing once he got a little rest into his system. While it was frustrating beyond words to have to deal with the dragonslayer’s drug induced hallucinations, the king had to admit that the other teen was certainly an exciting companion.

He’d never met anyone quite like the albino. Everything was a challenge between them, a never ending contest, but surprisingly, Van found himself enjoying it. Even during those endless hellish hours locked in their cells awaiting their next round of torture, he’d been a fascinating companion. Now that they were free, He’d proven to be more so. More importantly, Van found himself rising to meet those challenges with ones of his own.

Seeing the delight in those crimson eyes when Van met him head on, the fires when they clashed and that strange honest warmth when the latest expectations had been met was thrilling. No matter how many times he thought about it, it still seemed odd to experience such pure emotions from his former enemy. Dilandau never seemed to do things by halves. He hated with every ounce of his soul and when he gave his trust he didn’t hesitate to show it.

More importantly, Van found himself trusting the other teen as well. They’d been through so much together that it made his head spin to even think about it for too long. In the space of just under two colours, they’d lived a lifetime. The barriers which had previous stood between them had been ruthlessly torn down and in their place, created something which Van knew would last no matter what stood against them.

A soft sigh from the sleeping form on the bed urged Van to close the distance between them and gently brush a few stray locks of snowy white hair from his face. Taking a moment to marvel at how innocent and young Dilandau looked when he was unconscious, the king couldn’t help but smile indulgently, fully aware of how much the other teen would hate being told that. Still, when he was awake, it was so easy to forget that the fierce captain was actually the younger of the two.

At his gentle touch, Dilandau immediately snuggled closer, murmuring something softly in zaibachi as a pale fingers reached out, catching the hand with his own. The grip was deceptively strong, not that Van had any intention of pulling away. He knew that the other youth slept better when he knew someone was there, and right now, he couldn’t begrudge Dilandau even a moment of lost sleep.

“I know you hate it when people apologize, but I’m so sorry that this happened to you.” He murmured softly, stroking that soft unscarred cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I thought I could talk sense into them, that I could make them see what I see in you.”

All of this was such a mess and he knew that it was likely only going to get worse as time went on. What made it even more frustrating was that he completely understood why people would hold onto their hatred of the albino warrior. Dilandau himself was utterly unrepentant of his actions during the war and Van was under no illusion that he wouldn’t hesitate to leap right back into his genocidal violence given even the flimsiest reasons. He’d said as much more than once, how he loved battle and death, how there was nothing he loved more than a vicious fight.

Dilandau wanted the upcoming war. He was looking forward to it. It didn’t matter to him how none of the countries had the resources for prolonged military action. Surviving the coming winter was going to be hard enough without all of this looming over them.

To be fair, war was really all the sleeping youth knew. The very idea of peace had to be more than a little daunting.

“Still, I have to admit, a floating fortress is more than a little impressive.” He mused, still gently stroking that soft cheek. “Was that you or just pure dumb luck?” A smile tugged at his lips as he thought about just how utterly improbable the chances were of them finding an abandoned fortress like this one right when they needed a place to rest and regather their strength.

“It really is perfect... dead bodies aside.” Van continued to speak, his voice filling the room, pushing back the silence and making him feel a little less alone. Granted, if he didn’t want to be reminded that they were basically sitting back and relaxing in a giant tomb nearly a thousand feet up in the air, he shouldn’t have brought up the bodies. “When we meet back up with the others, we’ll have the perfect way to get to Fanelia and you don’t even need to go down there if you don’t want. No one can touch you up here. We finally found a place where you can be safe.” Of course, would everyone else be safe in turn? From here, Dilandau could easily launch attacks from above once he got it up and running properly.

“Don’t make me regret finding this place.” Speaking of, he really should be scouting the place out and making sure that there weren’t any surprises lurking around darkened corners. Entire crews didn’t just die on their own, especially not like that.

Sure, logic dictated that whatever had killed the crew had likely already left. Why stay in this floating tomb if you didn’t have to? Of course, experience quickly pointed out that leaving the fortress wasn’t exactly an option if the killer wasn’t a pilot or lacked wings. With their luck, it was still waiting in the darkness for them to drop their guard.

There had been no shortage of corpses scattered about the ship, many of them looking as if they’d died trying to defend themselves from some sort of unknown assailant. Van considered it a small miracle that this room had been body free, though really, that should have been expected considering the commander was dead on the bridge.

While he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Dilandau sleeping in the bed of a dead man, he knew that the albino would simply scoff at him for his soft heartedness. A bed was a bed after all, and it’s not as if it’s previous owner still needed it. Ah, cold blooded practicality. It was something Dilandau had in spades and Van couldn’t help but envy him just a little.

The memories alone of those husks of bodies piled up on top of each other, cast aside as if their lives and deaths had meant nothing still made him shudder with revulsion. Worse was the way that Dilandau had either blissfully ignored them, or paused to speak to them, nodding his head at their imagined answers. At least, he hoped their answers were imagined. They already had enough ghosts hanging around and being surly.

He really desperately hoped it wasn’t ghosts.

Speaking of horrible things he’d rather not know about but likely should, someone had to make sure that whatever had killed those people really was gone rather than simply hope it was true. He’d never been the sort to simply sit back complacently, waiting for an unseen menace to rear it’s ugly head. Going out, confronting it and kicking it’s skulking ass had seemed to work out well enough for him in the past, as evidenced by Dilandau himself. Besides, experience had gone well out of it’s way to teach him that the instant he lowered his guard, bad luck would hit.

Of course, getting off the bed now that he’d sat down on it posed its own set of problems, namely, one rather clingy albino zaibachi. Any attempt to gently pry those long fingers away from his wrist met with soft wordless grumbles and an every tightening grip. It was clear that Van wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Not that he really minded in the end. Yes, it was strategically stupid, but when he looked down at that seemingly fragile form curled tightly against him, all he could do was think about how close he’d come to losing him.

He still wasn’t sure what it had all cost them. Love might have brought Van back from the paths of the dead, but if the dragonslayers were right, Hate had been what had saved Dilandau. There was no way to know what sort of mark that would leave on his psyche, but judging by those pitch black eyes and the shadows which had clung to him like a viscus second skin, it wasn’t going to be good. Was he still the Dilandau Van had gown to care deeply for? Or was he something darker now?

Looking down at that sleeping form, it was impossible to tell which way things had gone in that already twisted and damaged mind.

Dark shadows still left him with a hollow eyed look, lending an illusion of fragility to the fierce warrior and threatening to awaken every one of Van’s protective instincts. At least the hot shower had pinked the normally pale skin and he’d gotten enough water into the other boy to give him an overall healthier look.

It had been odd to be the one propping up the other teen. After so many shared showers where their roles had been reversed, it was nice to be the one being leaned on. Granted, the drugs had left Dilandau more than half out of his already damaged mind, but he hadn’t fought Van as he’d been washed. Instead, he’d relented with almost worrisome passivity, following the king’s directions without argument, breaking them only to insist on drinking in as much of the falling shower water as he could. Not that Van could blame him. After being without any sustenance for days, he doubted that he’d have held out either with the life giving liquid falling around him. He just prayed that the water was clean enough for consumption.

“I really hope you wake up with your brains in the right place again.” He found himself murmuring softly and was rewarded with the pale teen snuggling a little closer, the faintest of contented smiles tugging at his lips.

Realizing that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, no matter the threat of danger hanging over them, Van settled himself on the bed, pulling the taller youth against him and allowing his eyes to close.

Just a few minutes of rest. He’d earned it after all they’d been through. When he woke up, he’d scout the ship properly. Despite this little mental reassurance, Van kept his newly acquired sword near at hand. After all, it wasn’t paranoia when every else around you was mysteriously dead.

 

 

“Van?” The soft voice tugged at his awareness, pulling him out of a fitful sleep, leaving him more than a little disoriented. Blinking his eyes, he looked around the room in confusion, not quite sure where he was or how he’d gotten there. The comforting weight of Dilandau’s arm resting across his chest and their intimately tangled legs encouraged him to sink back into the sweet oblivion of sleep but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he’d heard something.

Laying his head back down on the pillow, he was immediately rewarded with his lover somehow managing to snuggle even closer against him, nuzzling the crook of his neck with a soft unintelligible murmur of contentment. It was impossible to resist reaching up and running his fingers through soft pale locks of hair and smiling sleepily.

“Hello?” The voice was soft and distant, barely heard through the heavy metal door, but after so long with only their own voices to keep them company, it was impossible to ignore.

This time he sat up, oblivious to the grumbling murmur it elicited from the other teen. The arm around his chest tightened in warning, attempting to pull him back down but this time, Van quickly extricated him from his lover’s grip. Without a word, he slipped from the bed and quietly padded towards the door, pressing his ear against it and listening carefully.

“Anyone? What’s going on? Where am I?” Shock filled him as he heard those words, that familiar voice which pulled at something deep inside him. Hitomi!?

He never thought he’d ever hear her voice so clearly again, undiluted by the distance in time and space between them. The pounding of his heart was almost deafening as it battered against his ribs and before he even knew what he was doing, he was tapping the keys on the door pad that he’d seen Dilandau hit. It took three tries to get them right but he didn’t care. All that mattered was finding Hitomi and holding her in his arms again.

How did she get here? Why did she return? Was it for him? Questions filled his head, drowning out any other thought as he raced down the labyrinthine hallways, heedless of any danger which might be lurking in the shadowed corridors.

“HITOMI!” He yelled out, his voice echoing off the walls as he skidded around a corner, nearly careening off the far wall in his eagerness to be reunited with his beloved. It didn’t matter that he was now hopelessly lost and had no idea how long he’d been running around the near endless corridors of his damnable floating fortress, his ears continue to strain for that beautiful siren’s call.

“VAN!?!” There was no mistaking the relief and delight in her voice and he could feel a wide grin splitting his face practically in half. Soon they would be together again! Soon everything would be perfect!

“HITOMIII!” He didn’t care that he sounded like a lovelorn child, so long as it brought her to him.

Practically tripping over his own feet as he spun around another corner, he saw the slender figure standing there in the hallway, lit by the harsh glow of the blue energist sconces in the wall, she was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. In fact, she looked exactly as she had all those colours ago when he’d last held her in his arms. So young, full of vibrant life and blooming potential.

Hearing his approach, she spun around with a gasp and her grass green eyes stared into his, practically shining with love and happiness.

“Van,” She whispered softly. There was so much emotion in that single name that the young king felt his breath hitch in his throat. How often had he wished to hear her speak his name like that? How many nights had he ached to see her eyes staring into his, to feel her body wrapped in his embrace. Far too many to count and all of those lonely moments rushed forward all at once, nearly causing the proud king to stagger beneath their power.

“I felt your pain echoing across the worlds.” Hitomi continued gently, a single glittering tear edging her lashes like a brilliant diamond, reflecting the cold energist light of the sconces. “So much pain, it was as if your soul was crying out to me. I couldn’t ignore it, I couldn’t turn away from you Van, my beautiful Van.”

A gentle smile tugged at her lips as she reached out a hand and gently stroked her fingertips across his cheek, trying to convince herself that she really was here once more. The scent of her perfume wrapped around him like a warm blanket, a mix of wild flowers that should have been cloying in it’s strength was actually more than welcome in the cold sterile hallways of the empty fortress and he breathed it in gratefully.

“But... but how?” He found himself asking, reaching up to tenderly cup her hand against his face, thrilling at its solidity and warmth. “I saw you age, you were as old as Allen, you... you had a husband.”

Slowly, he pulled her hand away from his face, turning it so carefully that it might as well have been made of spun glass as he studied her fingers for a sign of that hated golden ring.

It was beautifully bare. More importantly, there was never any sign of having worn one. Her skin was the same warm creamy tan it had always been. Gods of Gaea, he nearly wept in relief.

“Time is different between our worlds Van.” She reminded him patiently. “I don’t really understand the details, but I haven’t been gone long.” That familiar bashful smile was everything he dreamed it could be and he found himself smiling along with her, his soul feeling as light as one of his feathers for the first time in so long.

“It’s only been a few weeks.” She continued, stepping closer, her body boldly brushing against his even as her cheeks took on a rosy blush. “The instant I got back home, I realized that I’d made a terrible mistake.” Those expressive eyes closed for a moment but not before Van saw the flash of pain in their depths.

“I’d grown up so much that my friends seemed like strangers. They were so empty and flat. Everything was. A paper world filled with paper people.” A delicate shudder made it’s way through her and Van didn’t hesitate to pull her closer, his arms moving around her protectively.

“Everything reminded me of you. Of my time here. I realized that this was my real home, it always had been. We were destined to be together Van. I’m never going to run away again.”

His heart swelled at those words. How long had he dreamed of hearing them spoken from those lips? Far too long. Before he realized it, he was hugging her tightly, hot tears pouring down his cheeks. She was so solid, so real!

“Hitomi... I... I...” Pulling away slightly, he stared deep into those beautiful eyes, wanting to lose himself in their depths forever. Smiling, she gently placed a fingertip to his lips.

“Shhh.” She whispered softly. “Just kiss me, the way we should have before.” Unable to form words, Van eagerly leaned forward, his hands reaching out to pull her close once more.

Warm soft breath brushed against his lips and he closed his eyes, wanting to savour this moment which had haunted his dreams for so long.

The pendant in his mind suddenly swung sharply as he heard a sharply indrawn breath. Hitomi’s body stiffened in his arms and he could feel her fingers tightening on his arm, squeezing with bruising force.

Shocked, Van opened his eyes, staring into hers.

“Oh you have no idea how utterly satisfying it is to do that.” A new voice purred as crimson eyes seemed to appear out of the shadows just over her shoulder, glittering with naked malice. Hitomi gasped once, twice... struggling to draw in breath as a thin trickle of blood fell from the corner of her mouth.

Shock warred with horror as Van took a hesitant step back and looked down. Nearly a foot of sharpened and bloody steel stood out from her slender stomach. Crimson pooled around the wound, staining her clothes even as it began to trickle down her abdomen in a quickly growing stream.

His sword...forgotten on the bed in his haste had been returned to him in the worst possible way imaginable and he couldn’t stop staring at its bloody blade in horrified fascination as his mind struggled to fully comprehend what he was seeing.

Her slender fingers curled around the sword’s edge, wrapping around it, trying to pull it free from her body. Blood coated the steel, so dark that it didn’t even look real.. it couldn’t be real... this wasn’t happening. Oh gods of Gaea, let this just be a terrible dream.

“V....van?” She gasped, her voice faint and wet sounding, those beautiful green eyes of hers wide and glassy with shock.

“NO!!! HITOMI NO!” Lunging forward, Van reached out to her but a sharp jerk of the sword spun her away and the king found himself running right into a vicious kick which sent him to the floor gasping for breath.

He reached out to grab for her as Dilandau slammed her into the wall hard enough that he could feel the impact in the floor. Hitomi’s fingers were still clawing at the blade and he watched in horror as the impact sliced several of them free. The severed digits fell to the floor at his feet, instantly growing leperously pale and bony, the neatly trimmed fingernails growing into sharp talons.

Gasping loudly, Van scrambled away from the twisted pieces of flesh, his stomach churning with nausea. The previously strong yet sweet scent of flowers grew heavy and fetid, causing his stomach to clench in nausea even as his eyes widened in horror.

What was going on?! This couldn’t be happening! It had to be a nightmare, a terrible mind shattering and impossible nightmare!

“Not so strong with a sword stuck in your guts are you?” Dilandau sneered into Hitomi’s face, his eyes shining with malicious delight. One hand held the blade steady inside her while the other was wrapped tightly around her slender throat. Muscles bunched along his arm as he squeezed mercilessly, crushing muscles and tendons in his grip. “Scream for me you freak, come on, you can do better than that. Put some effort into it and make it fun for me!” His grin grew wider as he twisted the sword slowly, widening the wound. The stream of crimson became a river as Hitomi did her best to give voice to her agony despite the damage to her throat.

Even as Van watched, her beautiful eyes began to bulge, growing bloodshot and wild as her face began to purple. Long slender runner’s legs kicked and thrashed uselessly, her assailant stood too close to allow her blows to gain any force.

With ruined fingers, she tried to claw at Dilandau, but they’d been too badly damaged by the sword and she could do little more than flail at him, leaving bloody smears in their wake.

“That’s it, dance for me bitch.” The albino snarled, giving the length of steel another sharp twist.

With a roar of pure rage, Van shot to his feet and plowed his full weight into the taller youth, knocking him away from Hitomi’s broken body and driving him to the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of Dilandau. Before the other teen could recover, Van punched at his face, determined to avenge his beloved friend.

The small bit of water and rest he’d received seemed to have done wonders for Dilandau’s physical health however and Van’s fist was easily brushed aside as Dilandau rolled with the momentum, sending Van hard to the floor and pinning him neatly beneath his own body.

Snarling in rage, the fanelian king tried to get up but the dragonslayer held his arm trapped between them, using his own weight to keep the heavier teen down.

“Mmmm crushing that bitch’s throat then having you pinned beneath me, Sweet Fate, you have no idea how hard I am right now Fanel.” Dilandau purred into his ear, not bothered at all by the disgusted snarl of rage the king shot back at him. “I might even forgive you for interrupting my kill.”

Leaning forward slightly, Dilandau lightly bit Van’s ear just hard enough to leave indents of his teeth yet not quite draw blood. He then favoured the wound with a slow languorous lick of his tongue before pulling away quickly and rising to his feet. Turning to the still convulsing form of the girl, Dilandau gave her a sharp kick in the ribs, smiling in satisfaction as he heard a few of the fragile bones crack.

Grabbing hold of the sword once more, he looked down at that mottled bloody face, watching her struggle to draw air in through her crushed windpipe. A sneer of contempt twisted his beautiful features as he gave the sword another warning twist.

“Oh stop with the dramatics. You’re not fooling anyone.” A booted foot stepped down on her wrist, slowly squeezing the delicate bones beneath its armoured sole.

“....Albatou.” Hitomi spoke, her words soft but steady and far too calm for a dying teenage girl.

Van found himself carefully rolling over onto his side and watching with growing confusion as her trembling stopped and she met the albino’s glare with one of her own.

“That’s Captain Albatou to you, freak.” The dragonslayer sneered, pressing down a little harder on her wrist, smiling as he heard bones begin to crack. Crimson eyes narrowed dangerously, never once wavering from hers. “Answer my questions and you die quickly. Hesitate, lie or attempt to mislead and I will introduce you to tortures you’ve never even dared to dream of.”

“Why should I trust you?” Hitomi hissed back, her plump lips pulling back in a rather feral looking snarl. Even as Van watched, she tried to sit up despite the sword impaling her guts.

“You can’t, but your options are rather limited aren’t they?”

“Dilandau... what’s going on? That’s not Hitomi is it?” Van rubbed his stomach, noting how tender it was, then suddenly his stunned brain realized that the dragonslayer seemed to have replaced his beastkin kilt with zaibach armour. While it wasn’t his usual elite uniform, looking more like what the ship’s commander had worn, it was still a shock and he couldn’t quite help but notice that the uniform came with standard issue armoured boots. No wonder his ribs were bruised!

At his question, Dilandau actually looked up, meeting Van’s accusing gaze with a shocked look.

“How in every possible hell did you survive this long without me?” He asked before shaking his head and looking back down at Hitomi. “Are you alone on board this ship?”

“You mean aside from yourselves?” The thing that looked like Hitomi sneered up at Dilandau who simply rolled his eyes in mild annoyance before pivoting the foot grinding down on her wrist. His other heel slammed down on the girls face, crunching bone to powder and sending several teeth flying across the hallway.

“What the hell Dilandau!?” Van found himself crawling towards the dragonslayer and his prisoner, determined to stop the torture before it got any worse. “This is inhumane!”

“Yeah, well, we’re not human, and neither is this freak so I fail to see a problem here.” The two draconians stared at each other for a long moment before Dilandau heaved a rather heavy and much put upon sigh before glancing back down at “Hitomi”

“Excuse me for a moment, I’ll be right back.” His perfectly reasonable tone of voice was somewhat spoiled by the second vicious kick he gave the poor girl in the head, knocking her out. As before, Van moved to intercept him but strong hands grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Alright, clearly your education has been seriously lacking Fanel, because you can’t seriously be asking me to have any sort of pity for a doppelganger.” At the word, the king’s eyes grew wide and he drew in a shocked breath before staring down at the now unconscious figure on the floor.

“That... but... how?”

“Eloquent as always, how you share blood with Folken is beyond me.” Dilandau drawled, clearly amused by the darker teens discomfiture. “Did you not notice the condition of all the bodies on the ship? Drained of... well, pretty much everything? Dead without a mark on them?” Alright, Van had been wondering that, but who saw corpses like that and immediately hit on the idea of a shapeshifter? It’s not like the creatures were crawling all over Gaea... at least he really hoped not.

“Did you not notice the way the thing stank? Honestly, how could you let it get that close to you, it looked like it was about to kiss you.” Dilandau paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Were you about to kiss the damn thing thinking it was that moon bitch?”

“...is there an answer I can give that won’t result in you hitting me?”

“Not likely.” Well crap. Van’s jaw already ached at the prospect of a punch from the dragonslayer, especially since his knuckles were conveniently covered by armour. He’d likely lose teeth. “How could it look like her though?” He asked, quickly changing the topic and hoping to return the other teens attention to what was truly important. “How could it know what to say? I thought it had to kill people and you know... drink their souls or something.”

That seemed to work and Dilandau turned back to the doppelganger, giving it a thoughtful look.

“Yeah,,” He relented somewhat reluctantly. “They suck up everything when they kiss a person. Their memories, skills, mannerisms. It’s disgusting really. Damn parasites living stolen lives.” There was the soft creak of leather as Dilandau’s hands clenched into fists, loathing how similar his own existence was to the vile creature on the floor at his feet. No doubt the Madoushi had taken their initial inspiration from doppelgangers. It was just one more reason out of many for hating them.

“This thing glutted itself on the crew. With all of them trapped in the ship, injured and scared, they’d have been easy pickings. Eating so many people, drinking in their lives one after another probably super charged the damn thing. Granted, Everyone on Gaea knows about your soft spot for the little scrawny whore... or should I say hard spot?” Dilandau gave Van’s crotch a rather pointed look which the king promptly ignored, he was not about to be thrown into another fight no matter how much Dilandau might want one. Bastard was still aggressive from that datura crap they’d given him.

“But why didn’t they stop it? I mean, they’d clearly barricaded the doors on the bridge.” The statement was met with a blank look from Dilandau, warning that the dragonslayer likely didn’t remember much, if anything from their initial arrival. Hardly surprising given his history.

Taking the mental gap in stride, Dilandau simply shrugged his armour clad shoulders, as if the answer was obvious to anyone with half a functioning brain.

“They’d have had no way to stop it.” He explained simply. “The damn things can slip through the tiniest crack. Unless you’re in an airtight room, there’s no escaping them.” Again a cruel smirk pulled at Dilandau’s lips. “Of course, they seem to have problems pulling off that little trick if they’re clothed or say... have a few feet of steel lodged in their guts.” Tracing a finger idly up and down his scarred cheek, the dragonslayer crouched down over the downed shapeshifter, ensuring that his boot was firmly placed on the uninjured wrist before once again slowly grinding the bones beneath his weight.

Groaning softly in agony, the doppelganger’s eyes flickered open. Van couldn’t help but stare in silent horror. His eyes kept insisting that this was Hitomi laying there, suffering and struggling for life despite her lethal injuries. The disguise was perfect. Every twitch and mannerism had been consummately copied. Even the way she breathed was pure Hitomi. Come to think of it, the only thing which wasn’t right was the smell. Now that he was no longer under whatever influence it had wielded, the stink of rotting vegetation seemed to fill the hallway with it’s putrid reek.

“Now that you’re awake again. Are you the only doppelganger on this ship?” Dilandau smiled down at his captive. “I don’t want to have to keep smelling your stink once your gone.”

“How... how did you know what I was?” The creature ground out through it’s shattered jaw. Speaking was obviously painful for it, but Van had to give credit where it was due, this thing was tough.

“You stink, rather like a skunk-kin with gut rot.” Dilandau replied, sounding almost bored with the question. “Rather disgusting really, especially in a flying fortress. It’s going to take weeks to get the smell out. I mean, it’s not like we can open any windows at this altitude.” Reaching out his hand, he gave the sword another vicious twist. “Now answer my damn question. I assure you that I can make this much worse for you.”

“Dilandau, This is wrong! You can’t torture prisoners!”

“This isn’t torturing a prisoner, it’s pest control. And in case you had forgotten, it was just about to eat your soul.”

“You know what I mean! This isn’t right!”

“Oh, you’d rather have the disgusting bastards popping out of the walls and sucking your soul out? Or is it that you don’t mind so much since they look like your uptight little moon whore?”

“I don’t bug you about Miguel, could you not give me grief over Hitomi?”

“Get as jealous as you like with Miguel.” Dilandau countered smugly. “At least he’s sticking around and helping us with this mess, unlike this useless piece of meat!” He gave the broken body at his feet another brutal kick.

“That’s not Hitomi Dammit! Stop torturing it!”

“You’re right, it’s not.” Van didn’t trust the look on the dragonslayer’s face for even a moment. “Hey Miguel!” Dilandau called out into the empty air. “I can’t kill that bastard Zongi a second time, but how about I crush this one’s throat for you?”

While the dragonslayer in question didn’t manifest, there was a very definite drop in air temperature followed by a feeling of utter malicious delight, making it clear that they were not alone.

“You see,” Dilandau smiled down at the doppelganger, death glittering in his eyes. “I really hate doppelgangers. You’re a vile and disgusting people who should be exterminated from the face of this planet.” An armoured foot was placed against the creature’s throat, the throat which looked so much like Hitomi’s that it hurt Van to see. “You murdered these soldiers of Zaibach, you posed as one of them and stole their souls for your dinner. That alone earned you an execution.”

The boot began to press down and those slender arms reached out, grabbing at his leg uselessly. The broken wrists and ruined fingers rendered any defence impossible.

“Then you had the audacity to go and try to hurt Van. You don’t get to hurt Van. He belongs to me and no one hurts those under my protection.”

The sound of the creature struggling to breathe was horrible and Van turned away, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his fists as he struggled to keep his more noble emotions at bay.

Dilandau was right in the sense that they had no way of holding a doppelganger prisoner. It would inevitably get free and wreak havoc on the ship just like it had before. There was likely a hundred corpses or more scattered around them, so many lives stolen by this creature to feed and if he let his mercy rule him, their bodies would likely join that number.

Still, he couldn’t keep from wincing as he heard the inevitable wet crunching and the horrible final gurgling breaths of the prisoner. The ensuing silence was almost as bad and he was loathe to turn around and see Hitomi’s dead and ruined body laying there.

“You can turn around Van.” Dilandau murmured softly, sounding strangely breathless. “Its illusions are gone.”

Taking a deep and bracing breath, Van turned to look at the fruits of Dilandau’s cruelty and was more than a little relieved to see that it was no longer Hitomi’s battered and broken body he saw laying there on the floor. Instead, it was a strange creature with leperous white skin stretched over a too thin body. Arms and legs which were just a tad too long lay splayed out on the floor, creating the impression of a broken toy.

The thing wore no clothing but it’s smooth and sexless form rendered the need for any pointless, leaving it ornamented by nothing more than burgundy stripes, giving it a look similar to the tiger clans.

The face wasn’t human. Its cadaverous features were too long and thin to ever be mistaken as such, especially once you noticed the huge rounded eyes which took up far more of the face. Long slit pupils were set in what had once likely been luminous green eyes, now growing dull with death. They only served to add to the alien and predatory look of the thing and Van couldn’t quite repress a shudder of revulsion at how intimately close he’d been with the thing.

As he stared at the body in horrified fascination, Dilandau pulled the sword free from it’s gaunt abdomen and deftly severed the head from its shattered neck before giving the weapon a disdainful flick. Dark purplish blood oozed from the wounds, pooling beneath the corpse and the stench of rotting plants grew stronger with each breath Van took.

Even as the king recoiled in disgust, Dilandau seemed to lean a little closer. Flushed cheeks and shining eyes gave the impression of arousal which wasn’t at all helped by the dilated pupils in his softly glowing eyes or the way he licked those soft lips with the tip of his tongue.

Noticing the weight of Van’s gaze, Dilandau glanced over at him and the slight hungry smile he bore became a full fledged sultry smirk.

“You know, you look so hot when you’re full of righteous outrage.”

“Not the time or place Dilandau!” Van shot back, earning himself an indulgent chuckle, as if his protests were more amusing than anything. He half expected to be pat on the head like a child and silently swore to himself that if that happened, the albino would be the one getting punched in the face. Thankfully, Dilandau didn’t go that far and instead looked back down at their newest corpse.

“We should get this trash off the ship or we really never will get the stink out. I could smell Zongi’s guts on my alseides for weeks afterwards.” The dragonslayer finally said after what felt like minutes of uncomfortable silence.

“Look Dilandau.” Van growled through gritted teeth. “I know that asking for you to act like a human being for even a moment is a waste of effort, but could you possibly not act like a monstrous ass right now? You just murdered a prisoner in cold blood, and while I understand that yes, we couldn’t keep a doppelganger alive, could you show it’s death some level of respect?”

“Grab a leg Fanel. I’m not dragging this thing through the fortress myself.” Well, that answered that question. Honestly, he had no idea why he even bothered trying to humanize the other teen.

“I’m surprised that you’re not just setting the corpse on fire and tossing the ashes off a catwalk.”

“They smell worse when they burn.”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that.” Van grumbled as he dutifully picked up the other leg, somewhat relieved that Dilandau was taking the head as well. “No, wait. I do want to know how you know that.” If nothing else, a story might distract him from this newest hellish experience. It was rather impressive to note that since deciding to get along with the dragonslayer, he was experiencing so many new nightmarish events. He couldn’t wait to see what hit them next.

“Firstly, how much do you even know about doppelgangers?” Dilandau asked, sounding far too reasonable for a guy who was hauling a mangled corpse down a hallway. Granted, that seemed to be a rather normal day for him.

“Not much, we didn’t have any in Fanelia.” He admitted, hardly impressed that so far the Zaibach Empire had produced two of the monsters within their military.

“You’re so ignorant that it’s almost cute.” Dilandau snickered, prompting a soft growl from Van.

“Stop saying that!”

“Stop being ignorant then.” The dragonslayer shot back. “The doppelgangers are everywhere. They’re a shadow race devoted to ensuring perpetual war on Gaea.”

“Then I’m surprised you hate them so much. You guys want the same thing.”

“A world of paranoia, where you can’t trust anyone to have your back, where even your oldest ally could suddenly become an imposter and slit your throat? Oh yes, what fun.” The sarcasm was evident in his voice. “You’ve seen enough of my memories to know how I grew up Van. I couldn’t drop my guard for a moment, couldn’t trust anyone or anything. Hmph, I’m half convinced that there was a doppelganger behind the planning stages of the project, using us as a test group to see how the human psyche could handle such prolonged stress.”

Van didn’t even try to repress a shudder as he remembered those dreams he’d shared with the other youth, a life where even just closing his eyes for more than a moment was risking death. Thankfully, it kept him from commenting on how clearly, such environments caused severe mental instability. That would just be provoking another pointless fight.

“They’ve infiltrated every country in Gaea, every army, every government. They push and prod those in power, ensuring conflict between the human races. Not that it really takes much at the best of times, but they keep it going when reason might prevail.”

Glancing back at the pale and almost skeletal form of the doppelganger being dragged behind them, Van frowned. If this was true, then how many of their decisions had been manipulated in some way? How often had peace been shattered in order to propagate violence? How often had he been tricked?

“You’ve run into them before? I mean, before this and... the one who killed Miguel?”

“Yeah...” The word was so softly spoken that for a moment, Van wasn’t sure he’d even heard it, and the silence which followed only further emphasized it. For nearly a minute, no one said anything, they just dragged the body through the ship. When Dilandau finally did speak, it sounded far too loud to Van’s ears.

“I was stationed on the northern border when I was around eleven, it was one of my first long term assignments and it was the dead of winter. The fort was decent enough though boring as all hell. The fort’s commander was more interested in bending me over his desk than really putting me out on patrols, so I was more than a little stir crazy.

“We had the odd push from Daedalus but nothing really to warrant me being there.” Van didn’t even bother commenting on how Dilandau sounded more annoyed with being bored over being abused by his superior officer. Bringing it up would just start another argument and he really wanted to hear this story.

“For the most part, the biggest problem the base had to deal with were the bears breaching the walls, and storms. Sweet Fate, those storms were nightmares in and of themselves.” A delicate shudder wracked the dragonslayer’s body for a moment as his eyes grew distant. Not wanting to interrupt the tale, Van listened silently and followed the other teen through the hallways, dragging their foul burden.

“Attacks from Daedalus would happen once every few months at best and were nothing more than probes at our defences. They were hardly worth noticing and were treated as little more than exercise by us for the most part.

“When the attacks became more frequent, the commander started to insist that it was just ice pirates pushing their luck and he didn’t take it seriously. Granted, none of us really did. I mean, who in their right mind would willingly go out of their way to attack Zaibach?” As much as Van wanted to call him on his blatant arrogance, the king had to admit that the other youth was right. Zaibach had been by far the strongest and most technologically advanced civilization on Gaea. Their science and military might were unrivalled. No sane country would have initiated hostilities with them if they could avoid it and only the truly desperate fought back against their will.

“The few scattered attacks grew in number and intensity. Soon they were no longer treated as drills and exercises. We were under siege and the winter storms were just beginning.” Frowning slightly, Dilandau glanced over at Van.

“Have you ever seen a winter on our Northern Border? My country isn’t bright or sunny at the best of times, in fact you can count clear days on you fingers and likely still have some left over, but during winter, the sun simply ceases to exist at all. It’s dark for colours on end and the temperature plummets so far that you could freeze within minutes of stepping outside. Only alseides guymelef can be operated that far north and even then, you only have a short window of time before the crima metal freezes, locking you inside. A lot of pilots die during the winter because they don’t mind their temperature gauges.

“The blizzards are the worst.” He continued, losing himself in his tale. “There’s no visibility at all and the winds can rip the skin from your bones, not that it really matters because you’d be dead within a minute out in it. Each base becomes an isolated island of life, cut off from the rest of the empire. We can’t communicate with the Capital, let alone the nearest neighbours. I’m not sure if it was the cold, or the proximity of Asgard, but communication was spotty at the best of times. When there was a storm, it was nonexistent. You had to learn to be utterly self sufficient, and how to handle yourself in a crisis, because if even the smallest thing went wrong, it became a life and death situation. Most people couldn’t handle that level of long term stress.

“It’s easy to lose your mind up there and anyone stationed there for more than a few colours goes a little odd in the head from the isolation. You could tell who’d been there the longest just by looking into their eyes.” It took a near monumental act of will not to suggest that Dilandau had likely been stationed there a little too long. There was no point in provoking him when he was actually being so forthcoming with information. Honestly, Van felt he deserved a medal or something for holding his tongue.

“You didn’t fight during winter. It was an unwritten rule because doing so was pure suicide. So when the attacks dropped off, we figured that that was it for the next few colours and began to dig ourselves in and prepare for the ordeal of surviving the cold. We weren’t ready for the attack when it happened.

“Our perimeter scouts went missing first. We figured that there had been either some sort of accident, or that the idiots had gotten drunk and simply forgotten to report in. I’d volunteered to go beat some sense into them. At the time I was a lieutenant and commanded a small squad of outriders. We were the only pilots crazy enough to brave the weather.

“When we reached the bunker, there was nothing. The door was wide open and the interior frozen solid, but no bodies, no sign of struggle. I even found a cup of jaffa half drunk, just put down next to a half written report, as if the soldier had fully intended to finish it in a moment. It was one of the more genuinely creepy moments in my life.

“A storm was building, so we had to head back to base before we could really get any answers as to what happened. We barely made it before it broke but the commander didn’t care. He was furious that we had so little to report that was of use, only giving him more questions.

“By the time the storm passed, we’d lost communication with two more bunkers. Once again, I went out with my outriders and once again we found empty buildings exposed to the elements. A bear had taken up residence in one and killed half my damn squad before we put it down.

“On our way back, we saw the smoke and realized that our base was under attack. The Daedalusians had slipped in through the now gaping hole in our perimeter and were doing their level best to eradicate the base from the face of Gaea.

“They’d caught the base by surprise, that much was obvious and the hangars were badly damaged, preventing our alseides from mobilizing effectively. I saw them moving towards the communications array so my squad and I came up behind them, tearing into them before they realized we were there.”

Here, Dilandau paused to open a door which had been sealed shut, overriding the codes with some long complicated sequence, only to make a face as they came upon a corpse strewn hallway.

“Tell me again how I should be nice to the prisoners?” He muttered softly, dropping the corpse’s leg in order to move the bodies of his countrymen against the walls. To Van’s surprise, Dilandau was careful with the human bodies in a way he wasn’t with the doppelganger, showing a great deal of respect to the deceased.

“I’d been in skirmishes and war zones for two years by that point and I can honestly say that I’d never seen anyone fight with such rabid intensity as they did in that attack.” He continued to talk as he cleared the way, forcing Van to work at his side if he wanted to hear more. “There was no option of taking anyone alive, they were like rabid animals. There was no fear in their eyes, no sense of self preservation... nothing but the desire to kill.

“By the time we cleared the base, my squad was dead, I was exhausted and most of our troops weren’t doing much better. The commander, being the brilliant man that he was, had locked himself away in the command centre with a few of the officers and really was no help whatsoever.

“Oh don’t give me that smirk Fanel.” Dilandau shot over at him. “The Zaibach military is a well oiled machine, but even machines can glitch and have parts that break. As much as it pains me to admit, we do occasionally have ranking officers incapable of wiping their own asses without help and assurances. There’s a reason Commander Marcel was up at the ass end of the arctic.

“Anyway, we barely had time to even start organizing a counter attack when the second wave hit. As galling as it is to say, they rolled right over us. Granted, it’s hell defending a base when the walls are down, the weapons are locked in a damaged hangar and the commanding officer is panicking. I’m sure you’re picturing me picking up a sword and charging the incoming army with a grin and a giggle, but I assure you that I did have a brain in my head.

“There was no way we were going to win, and I wasn’t about to sit back and let our northern border be taken. So instead of throwing my life away like an idiot, I took advantage of my small size and got into the air ducts.

“I’m not sure how long I was in them, spying on the invaders, slipping out just long enough to slit throats and steal supplies. The few glimpses they had of me just further confirmed in their minds that I was an evil spirit... and I admit that I did sort of encourage that train of thought.

“I caught the stink of rotting vegetation a few times in my travels through the ducts and managed to trace it to the captain leading the attack, but I could never get close to the bastard. He was always surrounded by an honour guard of all things. If I’d known what it had meant at the time, I would have taken the risk but back then, I knew that I had other priorities.

“You see, my base had lamentably fallen, but we weren’t the only ones up there. I knew that if the other border bases weren’t warned of the attack, these idiots could do a rather large amount of damage to the country. There were several villages to the south of us which would be easy pickings for them if we fell.

“So while the invaders were busy prying the commander from his bunker, I slipped into the hangar, found a functional alseides and tore my way through the wall. In hindsight, it wasn’t my best plan ever, but I had some stolen supplies, knew the area well and really didn’t have any good options otherwise.

“Needless to say, the trip wasn’t pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. Another storm was brewing and it struck when I was halfway there. My systems went down, my liquid metal started to freeze and I ended up hitting a rather large ice outcropping a few miles out from the fort. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I got there. I was half frozen and practically out of my mind from the wind screaming in my face but I made it.

“At first, they thought that it was just “Midnight Madness” and tried to reach the fort on the radio. Naturally they got nothing but static because of the storm and the fact that the invaders had most likely taken the communications tower down at this point. Still, this base commander didn’t want to take the risk and she sent me back with a sizable escort once the storm let up.

“When we got there, it was nothing but a smouldering crater and a single survivor, the commander naturally. He’d hidden some secret tunnels beneath the command bunker. Thankfully, he backed up my story of a surprise Daedalus attack, but something wasn’t right. The man stank. No one else seemed to notice, but every time I went near him, all I could smell was rotting plants. It was nauseating. Thankfully he was too busy giving reports to Commander Marrolo to want to spend time with me and I made myself scarce the few times he did go looking for me.

“Shortly afterwards, he was reported to have walked out into a storm and died. No one ever found his body... but the next time I saw Commander Marrolo, she had that same reek. More annoyingly, she suddenly seemed fixated on a counterattack on the border bases of Daedalus.

“Alright, I’m lying. I was delighted to finally be let off my leash and attack those smug bastards, but I didn’t like the circumstances behind it. Worse, every time I had to report to Marrolo, I couldn’t get that stink out of my nose and she kept staring at me, sizing me up like she was trying to take me apart with her mind. It was similar to how the Madoushi looked at me a lot of the time and I often found myself wondering if she knew that I could tell something was off with her.

“At any rate, things began exploding on the border in a rather literal fashion. It had always been tense, but as winter slowly rolled into spring, the fighting was nonstop. I took part in several large scale attacks on their bases and border villages. I even personally burned one of their main harbours... sweet fate you should have seen the place light up. It was beautiful!”

“Did you ever find out what had happened?” Van prompted with a loud cough, hoping to get back to the topic at hand. He really didn’t want to hear stories about wholesale slaughter. The atrocities committed in the “Midnight Sun Massacres” had reached his ears in Fanelia and given him nightmares for months. Thankfully Daedalus had never asked for aid from their neighbour, allowing the terrible stories to remain a distant horror for the young king.

“No, I was transferred out to deal with the Basram/Egzardian border war. The fighting eased off about a colour or so later at any rate. When I went back with my Dragonslayers two years later things were tense, but quieter. Words could not possibly express my disappointment.”

“But didn’t the sorcerers know? I mean, you would have told them all about it right?” Van asked once the hallway had a clear path, enabling them to resume dragging their foul cargo to whatever fate awaited it.

“No idea honestly.” Dilandau admitted with a bit of a shrug. “More blank spots in my memory. Chances are good that I did though, why would I hold anything back from them? I worshipped them.”

Dilandau shuddered as he fell silent, his skin greying slightly at the thought of just how convenient the timing had been. Two colours to settle into a routine and grow complacent, then half a year of high intensity battle in a hostile environment, only to have it fade away to tenuous peace shortly after he left. Why would they send him up to the border at that time? Had they known? Was it planned?

“The second time was a little over a year later. I was on loan to the Iron Army and met a lieutenant who had that same stink about him. This time I had an idea of what to watch for and once again noticed how the situation in the area went from tense to a firestorm of violence.

“As soon as I thought I might possibly have something concrete to report, their platoon was killed in battle, no survivors. I figured that maybe I’d just imagined the whole thing, but a week later, I crossed swords with a woman who had that same stink. Don’t ask me how I made the leap, but I knew that it was the same person as the lieutenant. They looked, sounded and even moved differently, but it was them, I was positive of it!

“I killed the bitch, ran her through and then took her head. The same thing happened as with this freak, her disguises melted away, leaving this disgusting stinking corpse behind. As much as I wanted to take the body, or at least the head as proof that something was fucking with us, I was well behind enemy lines at the time and couldn’t afford to drag around something that stank that badly, so I tipped over an oil lamp and lit the thing up. Believe me, they really do smell worse when they burn.

“Of course, when I did try to report what I’d just seen, I was beaten by the captain for trying to incite paranoia and was sent to the Madoushi, labelled as “unstable”. That’s not something you ever want them to call you.” Dilandau shuddered in horror at that memory and what had followed.

“The third time I met someone with that smell was during some riots on the southern border. It was a civilian, a child no less. I simply walked up to them and slit their throat. No one questioned me, they didn’t dare at that point what with the reputation I had.

“I dragged the body to my superiors and threw the damn stinking thing on their desk, daring them to pretend it didn’t exist. The next day, my captain was gone. Transferred to another base according to the paperwork. There was no mention of a body or strange creature and I was called back to the Madoushi for reassessment. None of them mentioned it either that I remember, but I’m positive they knew about it and had silenced everyone involved.

“I didn’t run into anyone else with that stink until I served on the Vione and ran into Zongi. I’d sliced the bastard up pretty good before Folken intervened and had me pulled off of it. Damned bleeding heart buzzard, taking a freak like that in.” Pausing long enough to spit at the dead doppelganger, Dilandau pulled with renewed vigour.

“He was the one who explained about them to me, trying to win me over with his stupid speech about bringing an end to needless war and conflict, building a perfect utopia blah blah. Like he was ever actually going to have that. The idiot was so wilfully blind to the world around him that it was laughable.”

Van silently contemplated the story and the dark implications it raised. Zaibach had a large and very active military, was it to be expected that it would have drawn so many shapeshifters into it’s ranks? Had Dilandau even crossed paths with all of them? How many more were out there fostering the seeds of war?

“You said that no one else could smell them.” He finally said, earning himself a sharp nod from the dragonslayer. “And I could smell this one, even if I didn’t know what it was at the time. I just thought it was perfume... I’ve never really liked women’s perfume.” Heat rushed to Van’s cheeks as he idly wondered if that was just another tell tale sign that maybe women weren’t for him? No... he still was attracted to Hitomi, that doppelganger had made that clear enough. Why did everything have to be so confusing?

“Your point?” Dilandau glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, curious as to where the king was going with this line of thought.

“Well, I was wondering if maybe Folken could smell them too. Maybe that’s how he found this Zongi guy. Maybe draconians can smell doppelgangers... course, I didn’t notice much of a smell coming from the one in the cells.”

Their unpleasant walk was interrupted by a rather heavy looking door with several signs written on it in zaibachi. While Van wasn’t an expert on such things, he was pretty sure that they were some sort of warning. Rather than opening it as Van expected, Dilandau instead leaned against it for a moment, staring down at the body thoughtfully.

“I suppose that would make sense. It might also explain why that buzzard was always trying to surprise me with the damn freak. He was testing me, proving some stupid theory or another to himself.”

“Well, if that’s true, then it means that there weren’t any doppelgangers in Fanelia.” Van allowed himself a proud grin, which faded quickly in the face of Dilandau’s slightly raised brow.

“How so?”

“Well... the royal family are... er... were draconians. We’d smell them right?”

“So, you’re telling me that you knew every single person in Fanelia? You were close with every guard? You, Folken and your mother hung around every war meeting? Don’t be naive Van. They were there. They might even have known that we could detect them and kept a low profile in Fanelia. It’s not like it was a huge secret that your family wasn’t human.”

“It sort of was actually. Most people didn’t know.”

“Well, then they were idiots.”

“You didn’t know until you read that file.”

“I was raised in a lab. We didn’t often discuss royal lineages.”

“Technically you’re part of that lineage you know.”

“Yeah... about that. I don’t like being related to Folken. I hate his guts. I’d rather be related to Leon and Encia Schezar.”

“Um... you do realize that it doesn’t really work that way, right?”

“Who’s going to argue? Besides, King Aston called me a Schezar. You don’t want to call King Aston a liar do you? I mean, he IS a liar, but it’s hardly polite for you to call him that.”

“You’re impossible, you know that right?”

“And yet you’re still dragging a dead body down a hallway with me.”

“Yeah... well... I’m sort of hoping to get laid at the end of all of this.”

For a moment Dilandau just stared at him in utter shock, hardly believing his ears. After several seconds of silence, a soft giggle escaped the dragonslayer’s lips. Van could feel his cheeks heating up once more as his mind caught up with his mouth but before he could stammer out an apology, the giggle had turned into outright laughter of utter delight.

Bracing himself against the door, Dilandau dropped the leg he was holding and clutched at his sides, bending over nearly double as he laughed so hard he had to struggle for air.

“Oh... oh sweet fate!” He gasped in between guffaws. “That.. that was so...so perfect! I never thought I’d ever hear you say anything so wonderfully crass! There’s hope for you yet Fanel.” Favouring Van with a thoroughly wicked grin, Dilandau picked the leg back up and quickly keyed in the code for the door. “I can guarantee that I will blow your mind when we get back to the room.”

Well, that was promising sounding, though Van was still personally more than a little shocked at his own vulgarity. He’d obviously been spending far too much time in the albino’s company and really needed to be around more people who understood even the vaguest concepts of civilized behaviour.

“So, what are we doing with this body anyway?” On second thought, anyone with any notion of civilized behaviour would have washed their hands of them long ago. Maybe this really was for the best.

“Oh, we’re giving it a burial worthy of traitors.” Dilandau replied, still giggling softly despite himself. Pushing the last button on the door panel, it swung obediently open and both youths were blasted by a near solid wall of rather icy cold air. The wind screamed down the hallway like a dark spirit and Van was forced to squint in order to protect his eyes from his suddenly lashing hair.

“We’re going to toss it off the ship?!” There were so many levels of wrong at work here that Van really didn’t know where to start. “You sure you don’t want to set it on fire first?” He’d been aiming for sarcasm but really didn’t like how Dilandau’s eyes lit up at that prospect.

“If it was anything but a doppelganger, I would definitely do that. Damn, I wish they didn’t stink this badly. It’s been a while since I set someone on fire... of course, it’s not as much fun if they’re already dead.” Van made a mental note not to bring up that part of his adventures in Freid. “Nah, we’ll stick to tradition and just pitch this thing over. Don’t go making that face Van. It’s more fun than it sounds, and you get bonus points if you hit someone on the ground.”

“You’re sick, you know that right?”

“You’re the one making out with doppelgangers.”

“That’s not fair! I though it was Hitomi!”

“Hardly a step up.” Dilandau shot him a toothy grin before stepping out onto the catwalk on the exterior of the ship. “Mind your step, it gets slippery.”

It turned out to not be an empty warning and Van found himself struggling to keep his feet under him as he manoeuvred the weight of the doppelganger through the door. He was about to ask how exactly people were expected to use this menace when he noticed a rather thick corded wire stretching from one end of the catwalk to the other, and the small clip on Dilandau’s belt. No doubt the soldiers were expected to clip themselves to the wire in order to secure themselves. It made sense, but really, it would be much easier to just stay indoors.

“So, I was wondering.” Dilandau began as he heaved their awkward bundle up and over the rail with an ease which spoke of previous practice. “What’s the state of the ship? I don’t really remember much of our arrival. Mostly just waking up naked in a strange commander’s room. Thank you for that little panic inducing moment by the way. I’m going to punch you for it later.”

Van glanced over at Dilandau for a moment then watched in silence as the body slid over the rails and plummeted down through the air, tumbling end over end towards the rocking ground.

“I really wasn’t expecting you to wake up for hours. You really should still be in bed Dilandau.” He finally said in a soft voice. It was one part apology and a much larger part concerned reprimand for not taking better care of himself. Not that the albino seemed to care.

The head was unceremoniously tossed down after the body and the two teens watched it become a pale little speck before finally vanishing in the distance below.

“Damn, I hate it when I can’t see it hit.” Dilandau sounded honestly put out, but Van decided to just let the comment slide. It had likely only been said to annoy him anyway.

“How much do you remember of the last few days?” He asked in lieu of rising to the dragonslayer’s baiting.

“Bits and pieces that don’t make much sense.” Dilandau replied after a moment of thought, surprising Van with his honesty. “Arguing with Celena, talking to Miguel and being insanely thirsty.” Pale brows lowered slightly as Dilandau tried to put his memories in order. “I remember Celena screaming in terror and being in so much pain. It felt like my body was being torn apart. There was a battlefield and those damned creepy draconians flying around... They spoke to me... told me something...but I can’t remember what.” Teeth began to worry at his lower lip and Dilandau struggled to make sense of it all and Van could feel the frustration radiating off of him.

“More pain... Empty Fate it hurt so damn much, then... then I was hungry. So insanely hungry. The only way I could make it better was to hurt everyone around me; to rend and tear and kill and sweet fate it felt wonderful! Better than battle, or sex or anything!” That energist light flared for a moment in the depths of Dilandau’s eyes as he smiled fondly at the memory. “I drank it all in, but I was still so hungry, I needed more, I wanted more... then...’ He drew back with a sharp gasp, his eyes wide as they stared out into the distant horizon.

“Escaflowne. I remember that damn demon armour attacking me, tearing me away from it all.... then... then everyone started dying again. All around me they died and screamed and burned and you still wouldn’t kill me.” Armoured hands gripped the catwalk rail tightly and Van knew that his knuckles were likely white from strain.

He watched silently as the dragonslayer closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down before he got himself too worked up. While he desperately wanted to reach out and pull the slender youth into his arms while whispering words of comfort, he was rather sure they wouldn’t be appreciated.

Instead, he waited until Dilandau’s breathing calmed and that grip loosened somewhat before gently resting a hand on the armoured shoulder and offering a slight smile of encouragement.

“So what really happened?”

“Well, you’re not welcome in Freid ever again... likely me neither.”

“Did I start another fire?”

“You blew up a wing of the palace, killed some monks, a lot of guards, executed the Regent and... you blinded Chid.”

Cracking open an eye, Dilandau regarded Van through the fringe of his pale lashes.

“So why aren’t you screaming at me over it?” He sounded genuinely confused and Van couldn’t help but pull him a little closer, offering what support he could. “Chid’s your friend isn’t he? You were going on and on about trusting the brat.”

“You weren’t to blame.” He replied gently. “They were. What they did... it was unforgivable. While I might not be happy over how you reacted, I completely understand and hold none of it against you. Honestly, I don’t think Chid does either, but I wouldn’t advise going back for.. well... ever.”

“That bad huh?” Dilandau licked his lips nervously with the tip of his tongue, unsure if he truly wanted to hear the answer to his next question, but needing to know. “The others... where are they? Are they alright? If they touched one scale on my damn dragon...”

“I haven’t seen them, Chid told me that they’d escaped and were unharmed.” Van quickly assured the suddenly tense teen, giving him a gentle squeeze of comfort.

“If they’re fine, then why aren’t you telling me what they did? It was to me wasn’t it.”

“What will telling you do other than make you furious again?”

“Oh let’s see... the fact that it’s my damn body? It’s bad enough that I still don’t remember even half of what the damn Madoushi did to me, now I have to worry about prepubescent brats?”

“They killed you!” Van yelled, his anger suddenly flaring despite himself. His outburst so sudden and shocking that even Dilandau took a step back. “They tried to separate you and Celena using some stupid ritual and you died from it!”

“Well, clearly I didn’t. I’m still here right? Ugh, tell me that this isn’t another stupid hallucination? I’m really sick of those.” The surreality of having Van being the one upset while Dilandau remained calm unnerved the dragonslayer enough to make a weak attempt at humour, but he could feel the fury radiating off of Van and knew that the king wasn’t lying. Whatever Freid had attempted had truly been horrible.

“You came back... but you weren’t you. You were like a living breathing darkness. You were covered in shadows so dark and cold that they burned me to touch. You weren’t human, weren’t draconian... I don’t know what you were, but it was powerful and terrible.” Van couldn’t help but shudder at the memory.

“You tore through the guards like they were paper. You cursed Chid, you burned people to ash with your rage alone and you tried to use their deaths to bring your men back. It was terrifying to watch.”

“But you stopped me.” Dilandau’s voice was flat, utterly devoid of emotion and Van could feel him tensing beneath his hands.

“Escaflowne sat on you... sort of.”

“...the armour.”

“Yeah... it flew here. It saved your life. The guards had you surrounded. They were going to shoot you! I couldn’t reach you in time, but it did!”

“...and my men?”

“Dilandau....” Gently, he pushed at the dragonslayer’s shoulder so that they faced each other and stared into those suddenly flat and glassy eyes. “They wouldn’t have been your men. I... I talked to them afterwards and they were glad it didn’t work. Miguel said that they would have come back wrong. I’m not sure quite what he meant, but it sounded bad.”

“They talked to you.”

“Yeah... um... they have a few times, but only when I’m really worried about you and trying to help.” Again, Dilandau simply gave him a vague nod before turning back to stare at the distant mountains.

“...Dilandau?”

The albino didn’t reply. Instead, he reached up and began to unfasten his jacket, making quick work of the mind boggling array of buckles and letting the heavy leather fall to the catwalk at his feet.

“I need to think.” He stated, then without further ado, leaped over the railing. Van rushed to the edge and stared down, watching that pale figure grow smaller and smaller. When he finally saw a dark burst of feathers, he let out a soft breath of relief.

For several minutes, Van watched the dark winged figure dive and spiral through the air, catching winds that carried Dilandau well above the fortress, only to have him plummet like a falcon moments later. Though he longed to join him, he understood the need for solitude at a time like this. No matter how much it hurt, he’d give the dragonslayer his space. In the meantime, he would go and set about trying to clean up some of this ship.

 

 

Allen stood at the front of the bridge, staring out the window at the horizon, blind to the lush verdant jungles stretching as far as the eye could see, broken only by spectacular vistas. All he saw was that plume of dark smoke rising up on the horizon, defiling the pristine blue of the sky. It was a terrible and all too familiar calling card. One which he’d prayed desperately to never see again. Despite his best efforts and most fervent prayers, the worst case scenario was unveiling itself and there was nothing he could do about it.

“We need to keep going. There’s nothing we can do for them.” Sibille stated, ever the pragmatist. It certainly didn’t help that she hadn’t even bothered to sound at all upset about the catastrophe which had so obviously struck Godashim.

“We can’t turn out backs on them in their time of need.” Allen all but growled, his hands clenched tightly into fists at his side as he struggled to remain calm. “We have medicine on board this ship, supplies and technology which could help immeasurably.” Those were his allies up ahead, no doubt fighting for their lives in amidst the destruction Dilandau had left in his wake. “They need us!” Chid needs us! He added mentally, feeling the terrible pull of familial duty. He couldn’t ignore the danger his son was in. Acknowledged or not, he couldn’t walk away a second time, leaving the boy to fend for himself.

“Oh yes, I’m sure that the citizens of Freid would be all too happy to welcome a Zaibach ship into their capital city at this time of need.” Sibille sneered, her voice dripping with undisguised contempt. “We’d be lucky to land before they shot us down.”

“The destruction of Godashim is irrelevant” Geetha stated in her soft and hesitant voice, as if unsure of interrupting the two of them though she did shoot Allen a look which might have been apologetic.

“How?” The knight spat back at her. “People are dying! A city is burning and you said yourself that there had been another Zone of Absolute Fortune!”

“And what do you intend to do Schezar? You saw the shadowgraphs from Basram. Those people are likely part of the castle walls, or melded together like twisted children’s toys. Not even Madoushi magic can fix this mess.” The harridan’s words made Allen wince in pain, unable prevent horrible images from entering his mind. Chid suffering, his wide innocent blue eyes filled with tears, screaming for help... begging to be saved. Jeture, must he be cursed to lose his family over and over again?

“No, but it certainly seems more than capable of creating it.” He snarled back, unable to help himself. Almost instantly, he wished that he could take those words back because the vile woman practically lit up with delight at the realization that she’d finally gotten under the knight’s skin. The resulting grin which split her face was all too reminiscent of Dilandau.

“You do have to hand it to the little brat, he doesn’t like to leave a job half finished. Ten gidaru says he heads for Fanelia next. I heard they’ve actually got some of the palace there rebuilt.” Slender fingers clenched into fists as Allen struggled to remind himself why he shouldn’t strangle women, no matter how horrible or deserving.

“Actually,” The sorceress cautiously interjected, casting a nervous eye at Allen’s fists and taking a slight step back. “I was referring to the fact that there has been a second zone created only a few hours ago just north of us.” Her gaze dropped back down to the floor, refusing to make visual contact with anyone. “It was much smaller than the one located in either Basram or Godashim, but it means that sub... that Captain Albatou is on the move.”

“Ha! I knew that pale little bastard wouldn’t disappoint me!”

“...North.”

“Specifically 36.959818 by 31.510156.” Regis finally spoke up, his voice no louder than his master’s though unlike hers, it was choked with emotion. To Allen’s surprise, the harridan actually stiffened upon hearing the onslaught of numbers and shared a weighted look with her son. A quick glance at their map helped him put two and two together despite not being familiar with zaibachi coordinates.

“The Dragonslayers.”

“Looks like he slipped Fanel’s leash.” Sibille huffed, tugging idly at a lock of hair, her pale grey eyes studying the rising plume of smoke over Gosashim for a moment before looking into the horizon, much as Allen had earlier. “Well, at least he’s predictable in his rampages.”

“I know exactly where he’s going.” The words left Allen’s lips before he even realized that he’d spoken. Still, he could feel the weight of truth behind them and it made him feel sick with dread. “You were correct, he’s heading to Fanelia.”

“Of course I’m right. Though in this case, I honestly wouldn’t mind being a little wrong.” The vile woman grumbled softly, more to herself than anyone around her. ”Ugh, while I admire his conviction towards revenge, even he has to know that this is a fools errand.” Sibille crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against one of the control panels, a slight frown playing across her face. “Crossing the Wasting and then the jungles of Fanelia? He’ll find nothing but dragons and ruins for colours unless he’s stolen a leviship. Even then, he’d need some sort of crew to help pilot it and threats only carry so far.” There was an edge of doubt to her voice now as he pondered the most likely scenarios. “He can’t possibly be so blinded by vengeance as to not see how pointless this is going to be.”

Shaking his head, Allen considered what he knew about his sibling, weighing it against the information they currently had at hand. There were still far too many variables for them to truly understand his brother’s motives, but at least this seemed to be narrowing them down a little.

General Adelphos had claimed that Allen didn’t understand his brother, but the man was wrong. Allen understood him all too well. The trick was to not bog himself down in logical and critical thinking, instead allowing emotion and instinct guide him. While it sounded counterproductive to any rational and sane individual, Dilandau was neither, but his particular brand of vicious cunning more than made up for it.

“If he truly has as you put it, slipped Van’s leash, then he’ll want to strike where it would hurt him most, and that would be destroying what’s left of Fanelia, ensuring that the land is truly dead for all time.”

“If? You believe that he might still be following that murderous little runt king after all this?” Sibille gestured towards the smoke and destruction to prove her point. I doubt Gaea’s great and noble hero would approve of whatever happened there... unless he’s the one who did it. I’ve heard that he has a bit of a temper.” Sibille didn’t look overly convinced, but at least the snide contempt had left her voice, leeching the worst of the venom from her words.

She didn’t know about the bonds between them, how Dilandau would be physically incapable of disobeying Van’s commands. That brought a small measure of relief to the knight.

“They’ve surprised us before in the past.” He stated simply, feeling some small smug satisfaction in knowing something vital that she didn’t. “If they are indeed still allies, then Van will want to head to his seat of power, reclaim Escaflowne and assure his people that their king is still not only alive, but ready to defend Gaea once more.”

Silence ruled the bridge for several long moments, broken only by the ship’s captain and crew going about their business as quietly as possible.

“This is going to be a shit show.” Sibille finally grumbled out loud. As petty as it seemed, Allen took no small amount of satisfaction in noting that the harridan seemed to be in agreement with his assessment. The fact that she didn’t look at all happy about it just made his victory that much sweeter. Pity that the situation didn’t allow him to fully enjoy it.

“Alright Schezar, I’ll admit that you just might have a working brain under all that hair.” She finally admitted with grudging reluctance. “But how do you propose that we approach them? Fanelia will be even less friendly towards us than Freid. We’ll have to try to catch them before they reach the border and by the looks of things, they have another ship... a damn fast one at that.” She tapped the map with her fingertip, noting the impressive distance between Godashim and the ill fated plateau. “They’re moving faster than we are.”

“That’s not our only problem.” Regis interjected from the corner where he sat, dutifully pouring through the information provided by the quasi mystical machinery crammed aboard the ship. A rather impressive pile of papers lay scattered about him on the small table he’d been provided, separated into various stacks.

“Oh NOW you decide to speak up.” Sibille grumbled, proving that Allen wasn’t the sole target of her venomous tongue. “You’re just full of good news today. Please, tell me. What else is about to go wrong?”

Flashing his mother a somewhat exasperated though rather guilty look, the youth walked over to the map table and tapped in some sort of code on the various symbols located on the side. A series of faint lines lit up, marking an interwoven pattern of lines across the surface of Gaea, intersecting in several locations. Most of the intersections seemed to be in locations which had been hit early on in the Destiny War, making Allen wonder if this was some sort of battle map but Regis’ next words crushed that hope utterly.

“These are ley lines.” While the knight had no idea what those were, he knew that it likely meant trouble. “Think of them rather like the veins and arteries of Gaea.” He explained for Allen’s benefit, earning himself a narrow eyed glare. The last thing Allen needed on top of everything else was to have to start thinking of the planet as a living breathing thing.

“Power pools in these areas of intersection. It’s also where you usually find larger deposits of energist, sites of spiritual power and what not.” The apprentice sorcerer continued, heedless of Allen’s growing annoyance. “The Capital is located on one such point of power, one of the strongest in Gaea.” Geetha shot her student a warning look, but Regis pretended to ignore it and continued onwards.

“Freid has several points of intersection which is why the people here are so spiritually powerful. The energy seeps into them all of their lives, it saturates the land and every living thing here.”

“Make you point.” Sibille grumbled, enjoying the lesson every bit as much as Allen by the looks of it. Impressively, Regis remained undaunted by her ill temper.

“My point is that Fortona temple is just one of many temples located on these nexus’. It’s a delicate network. Think of the world like a sheet of ice, now riddle it with hairline cracks all across it’s surface where the water beneath can slowly leak out.” He tapped several of the locations and Allen couldn’t help but notice that they corresponded with the previously noted “hot spots” on the earlier map. “If something happens at one location mystically, the vibrations resonate along the network. It’s rather like someone striking one of the weak points in the ice.”

“You’d better be fucking joking with me on this.” Sibille snarled softly. “Are you telling me that that pale assed little psycho is about to blow up the damn planet?”

“No.” Well that was some small relief, but Allen was rather sure that there was a rather large “but” coming their way. “It’s just a metaphor after all, but there’s already been several Zones of Fortune created in a rather close period of time, the energy hasn’t had a chance to stabilize and settle. If this keeps up then this entire area could become mystically destabilized.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Allen couldn’t help but speak up, though he didn’t like how the sorcerer’s eyes were growing wider and wider with every passing moment.

“It means that if we don’t stop Subject 35 soon, reality as we know it could cease to exist.” Geesha murmured, sounding both intrigued and appalled at the same time. “The final culmination of the Eidolon project. Shroden, you brilliant insane bastard...” Blinking rapidly, she quickly realized her less than enthused audience and coughed softly. “Yes... well... we need to make locating and subduing s...Captain Albatou as quickly as possible. I’m afraid that travelling to Godashim is simply not feasible.”

“Not feas.... Those people could be dying!” Allen was practically at a loss for words, the shock of what he’d heard only beginning to truly set in.

“If we don’t put a stop to this madness then more than Godashim is doomed!” Geesha snapped back, her timid and quiet demeanour suddenly vanishing, leaving behind a fierce and cold woman in it’s place. Looking at her, Allen had no trouble at all picturing someone capable of tearing apart lives and countries in a quest to control destiny. “Nothing in that city is worth the lives of the entire planet.”

Unable to stop himself, Allen spun around to stare at that dark plume of smoke, sickened by the death and horror it implied. Guilt crushed down on his soul as he thought of Chid, of being forced by fate to abandon him once again despite how much he wanted to help the boy.

Symmetry in it’s cruellest sense, knowing that once again, here he was, safe on a leviship, being forced to turn his back on his son for the greater good. Offering the boy nothing more than fragile prayers to keep him safe. The fact that Dilandau was once again front and centre as the cause of the destruction wasn’t lost on him. Jeture, why did fate despise his family so much? It was made even worse by the knowledge that once again, Dilandau was at the head of the suffering taking place.

Taking a deep breath, Allen closed his eyes and turned his back to the window, unable to bear looking at the dark smear on the skyline and the catastrophe it implied.

“Very well.” He said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Head to Fanelia. We need to stop this madness.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Allen. The Schezar family really is cursed... same with the Fanels. They can just never catch a break. On the up side, words likely can't describe how much satisfaction Dilandau got out of killing a doppelganger that looked like Hitomi. Two for the price of one! Van is going to be seriously paranoid for a while about that one, especially with how turned on it made the little psycho.   
> I think they really glossed over all the potential of the doppelgangers in the show. They tease that yeah, they've infiltrated various armies and say that they live for propagating war, but then that's it. They're never encountered again when the biggest war Gaea has ever seen kicks into high gear!   
> I also found it odd that Dilandau reacted so violently to Zongi even before the guy appeared, noting the stench and then open dread and revulsion. No one else ever mentions the smell which is sort of odd considering the intensity of DIlandau's reaction. He even mentions several times how much he loathes the creatures and considers any plan involving them to be vile and disgusting, odd considering how Dilandau loves underhanded tactics. I figure that there had to be some sort of history there. Considering how Dilandau spent years in active military service, chances were good of him crossing paths once or twice with the shape shifters. Often enough to recognize one by sight.   
> But hey, good news. Now they have a floating fortress ! Sure, it's a bit of a fixer upper, but what could go wrong?
> 
> Next Chapter: The calm before the storm....


	22. Queen of Fanelia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dilandau learns a shocking secret... and takes it about as well as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay new laptop! The old one sort of fell apart into two pieces. Great news for my need to acquire shiny things. Bad news for my checkbook. On the plus side, I made Employee of the Month somehow. Ten years at my old job and never once got that. 7 months at this place and I get it. YAY. Amusingly, it was the same day we were getting employee reviews, so that was a fun day!   
> This chapter took a while to get off the ground but in the past week, I think I got most of it written in two shots, so yay! Hope you are all still enjoying it because I'm still in love with writing it. ^_^.

            This place was a maze designed to confuse and infuriate any potential invading force.  That was the only explanation Van could come up to explain the endless labyrinthine hallways which hollowed out the top hundred feet of the massive levistone.  Well, either that or the fact that everyone in Zaibach was psychotic. 

            Still, that didn’t make the floating fortress any less impressive in the end.  Whereas most countries were satisfied creating ships using the rare levistones.  Zaibach had chosen to build entire cities out of them, an engineering feat which still managed to boggle the young king’s mind.  While this one in particular wasn’t quite as large as the Vione, it was still damn impressive.... and aggravating to find his way around.   

            Of course, his annoyance was in no way dampened by the knowledge that this was likely the last floating fortress on Gaea.  The others had all either been obliterated from the blast of Basram’s bomb, or torn apart under the orders of the Allied forces. 

            Properly manned, this great behemoth could easily challenge Escaflowne for the title of God of the Skies and that was an incredibly sobering realization.  Without even thinking about it, his hand reached up, fingers lightly stroking the feather hanging around his neck, not noticing its soft glow, nor the answering glow from the pendant resting next to it.

            _“It’s too much power.”_   He could practically hear Hitomi’s voice whispering to him from across the worlds.  _“No one should have so much power at their fingertips.”_

Smiling slightly to himself, Van reached out with his other hand and stroked it along the cool metal walls, feeling the faint vibrations echoing up from the heart of the ship.

            “Don’t you trust me Hitomi?”  He found himself asking the empty hallway, his feet began walking once more, travelling in a seemingly aimless path through the hallways though he never quite broke their connection with the wall.

            _“Do you trust yourself?”_  She countered softly.  _“Isn’t the Escaflowne enough?”_

Was it?  A few colours ago he would have heartily agreed that the ancient armour was more than enough.  He’d have even been the first to state that it’s time had passed and it was time to put down the weapons of war and instead focus on rebuilding their new world of peace.  It was amazing how quickly one’s views could change when the blinders were lifted from their eyes and they were forced to confront the harsh realities of life.

            They’d wished for peace, for the freedom to choose one’s own destiny but they’d been just as blind as Dornkirk in regards to the hearts and souls of the people of Gaea.  Peace wasn’t everyone’s dream and few were truly happy with what they had.  There would always be those who wanted more than their fair share.  Always those who wanted to hurt, to conquer and to destroy.

            As if summoned by that dark thought, Van felt a second presence begin to stir in the depths of his mind and was hardly surprised when it found its voice.

            _“The Escaflowne won’t keep our family safe.”_   It sounded far too much like Dilandau for Van’s comfort but he did find it somewhat amusing that his subconscious seemed to have chosen those particular voices to speak for what he assumed was his idly musing conscience.  _“Look how often it’s failed to do that in the past.  Fanelia fell, Castilo fell, Astora burned.”_  

_“And who’s fault was that?”_   Hitomi’s voice coolly countered. 

_“It doesn’t matter which hand wielded the weapon.”_   The smug sneer was evident in Dilandau’s words and Van could easily picture the haughty look of superiority on the albino’s face.  _“What’s important is that they fell despite the presence of that damn armour.”_   Yeah, the stress of the past two colours was clearly getting to him if he was now a spectator to two disembodied voices arguing in his head.  Pity that this revelation didn’t seem to slow either of them down. 

_“It might be mighty, but it’s still only one machine.”_   Imaginary Dilandau continued to press, finding the weaknesses in Van’s defences and exploiting them mercilessly.  _“With this fortress, none could stand against you.  Fanelia could rise up from it’s ashes and conquer Gaea from the skies.”_

            “I don’t want to conquer anything.”  He found himself murmuring, smiling slightly in relief as he recognized a set of doors which were only partially closed.  “I just want to live in peace.  I want my family to be safe and my people happy.”  Aha! The bridge!  Finally something familiar.

            It didn’t matter that the room was still full of desiccated corpses and unnerving equipment.  It had huge windows which would allow him to see something other than blue/grey metal, not to mention blessed natural light!

            _“Atlanteans created this world.  It’s ours to rule over by right of blood and power!”_   Alright, obviously this wasn’t just a voice in his head because there’s no way he’d ever think something so utterly and arrogantly ridiculous.  That left only one other possible explanation.

            “Dilandau, get out of my head.”  Van murmured, allowing himself a soft and somewhat indulgent chuckle as relief filled him.   If the dragonslayer was sharing his thoughts, then that meant that he was nearby.  As unpredictable as his pale lover was, he was far preferable to being alone on a floating corpse filled rock.

            _“And you accuse me of arrogance.  Who say’s we’re in your head Fanel?  Maybe you’re in mine?”_   Alright, it was a valid point, though Van wasn’t about to admit that if they were indeed in the dragonslayer’s head, there would likely be screaming, creepy dead draconians and unnerving fields of flowers.  Mentioning that wouldn’t accomplish anything other than starting a fight.

            “Fine, whatever.”  The king certainly wasn’t going to pursue the point.  Honestly, he was more than a little surprised at how well he was taking all of this.  Of course, every day seemed to bring with it a new surprising level to their relationship.  Most likely he’d just become numb to the whole thing.  As for Dilandau, well, Van figured that he was likely used to hearing voices in his head.  What was one more at this point?

            “So where are you?”  Chances were high that he was likely embroiled in some form of mischief.  Honestly, the dragonslayer captain was worse than a bored cat left unattended. 

            _“The kitchens.  I’m starving.  When was the last time I ate?”_

            “.... Don’t eat too much or you’ll make yourself sick.”  Van cautioned before he could stop himself.  Yeah, that answer was going to go over well, he could already picture Dilandau stuffing himself silly just to prove some stupid point to himself.    “Please stick to something simple and light.”  He continued, hoping that the please would smooth things over.  “We’ll eat again in a bit... after you show me where the damn kitchen is.” 

He didn’t need the bond between them to feel the dark thread of tension which suddenly reverberated through the link.  The warning more than answered Dilandau’s initial question and would likely spur even more childish rebellion.  Speaking of…  “And stay away from the wine!”  Yeah, like that was going to happen. 

            As expected, his order was greeted by silence from at least one of the voices in his head, though it wasn’t long before he heard Hitomi speak up once more. 

            _“Please Van, make sure you’re doing things for the right reason.”_   She cautioned and now Van had to wonder if this might actually be the girl herself speaking to him and not some hallucination.  _“I know you want to protect your people, but that’s how Dornkirk started.  He wanted to protect Zaibach and make its people strong again.”_

            _“Don’t you dare try to speak about things you don’t understand, you sanctimonious little bitch.”_   Dilandau’s snarl was pure venom and felt like a slap against the inside of Van’s skull.  _“He’s not Emperor Dornkirk and this isn’t Zaibach.  Show some faith in his decisions or shut the hell up and stay hidden on your stupid world.”_

Alright, it was surprising to hear Dilandau actually speaking in his defence, but really, if it was against Hitomi, he’d likely argue that the sky was green and the grass was blue, just to be a contrary bastard.

_“This ship won’t keep the people of Fanelia safe!  Especially with you in it.”_  Well this was rapidly degenerating, though really it was hardly surprising.  He doubted that the two interlopers in his head could ever agree on anything and if they did, they’d certainly never admit it. 

Thankfully, neither had resorted to death threats or graphic descriptions of recent murders involving one’s likeness, but he was sure that was only a matter of time.  Perhaps he should have asked Dilandau to bring a bottle of whatever wine he found down in the kitchens. 

            Oh who was he kidding?  Of course Dilandau would grab a bottle or two.  The only question was if he’d be inclined to share.

            “ _Don’t worry Van, I’ll share with you.”_ The words were practically purred out and dripping with so much sweetness that they made Van’s teeth ache. _“Some of us understand how to work with others as part of a group rather than… oh I don’t know… say, hiding away and leaving everyone else to face danger while they stayed safe and out of reach.”_   If smugness had a voice, he was listening to it right now.

            _“You also have the observational skills of a rather unperceptive rock by the way because Van said he wanted a place to keep his_ family _safe.”_   Dilandau continued mercilessly, taking obvious pleasure in digging the knife in a little more.  _“His family.  Our family.  That thing you’re not a part of and have no say in.”_

            _“Wha-  but… but that’s…. Van!  How dare you get him pregnant!”_   Her voice was an unpleasantly loud and indignant shriek, making Van cringe despite himself as he was hit with the sudden image of Hitomi glaring at him as if he’d just made the stupidest mistake imaginable.

The pendant around his neck flashed brightly, flaring with heat and causing him to yank his hand back, releasing the glowing stone.  Sticking singed fingers in his mouth, he sucked on the singed digits and winced as he heard Dilandau scream in rage at the accusation.

            He could actually feel the impact of the stomping armoured boots heading in his direction and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable explosion.  Really, he should have expected as much.  It was actually amazing that they’d been as civil as they had been.

            “VAAAAN!”  The door screeched hideously as the irate dragonslayer shoved it aside, not bothering to wait for the damaged hydraulics to open it themselves.  “Van, I’m going to gut that bitch a second time!  Get over here and help me make a damn pathway to that stupid ugly moon of hers!  I want to see her blood on my blade and I won’t rest until it’s spilled!”

            “Settle down Dilandau.”  Van pulled his fingers out of his mouth and examined them for a moment, unwilling to dignify the other teen’s melodrama for even a moment. 

            The skin was a little red but didn’t appear to be damaged, which was good because it was his sword hand.  The way things were going, he fully expected to be needing full use of his weapon anytime now.

            “She said I was pregnant!”

            “And we both know you’re not, unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”  He shot Dilandau a sidelong look and had the momentary satisfaction of seeing the other teens already pale face go pure white, followed by various greenish shades.

            Shuddering in utter abject disgust, Dilandau lifted up the wine bottle he held in his hand and took a long drink.  It didn’t escape Van’s notice that it was already a quarter empty.  Lovely, they got to start and end this nightmare with alcohol induced vomit.

            “Did you at least bring glasses?”  He asked, even though he could see for himself that the dragonslayer’s other hand also held a bottle.  It was obvious what his priorities were.

            “Fuck glasses.”  Dilandau grumbled between swallows.  “I’ve been living like a barbarian for colours now.  I might as well act like one.”

            “You’re going to regret this in the morning.”

            “I regret it now.”  He snapped back heatedly, moments before waving the second bottle in Vans direction.  “How could you let the bitch get the last word!?  Calling me pregnant…I’m not a woman.”  The last bit was grumbled softly and likely not intended for his ears.

            “I wouldn’t care if you were.”  Van replied gently, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Dilandau’s trim waist, noting that he still hadn’t replaced the armoured jacket he’d taken off prior to his flight.  It felt wonderful, having those smooth hard planes of flesh pressed against his own, the skin soft and radiating a deliciously addictive heat.  The faint tickling of the feather necklaces trapped between them did little to take away from the comfort the touch brought him and he could tell by the way that Dilandau slowly relaxed against him that the dragonslayer felt the same way.

            After a few moments of just standing there, strong arms slid around his body, pulling them even closer together as he felt the firm weight of a chin resting against his shoulder followed by the tickling warmth of breath across his ear.

            “I miss hearing Celena.”  Was murmured softly, the sweet scent of alcohol colouring Dilandau’s breath as he spoke.  “I thought it was her at first… I thought she’d come back to me.”

            “We’ll find her Dilandau.”  Reaching up, Van carded his fingers through soft white hair, noting that it was more than a little windblown and tangled from his flight.  “She’s likely just scared and hiding.  Once she realizes that she’s safe, she’ll let us find her.”

            “Is she safe though?”  Pulling back slightly, Dilandau put just enough distance between them to be able to look Van in the eyes.  His own were dark and troubled, the energist light dampened down, making them look almost normal… as normal as eyes the colour of fresh blood could be.

            “What they did to me… How do we know it’s over?”  It was more than a little unnerving to see the dragonslayer captain’s normally unflappable confidence shaken so deeply, but he did have a perfectly good reason for his worries.

            “Whatever it was inside you, we drove it back.  Myself and Escaflowne.”

            “Then why are my wings still black?”  Valid question… albeit a rather uncomfortable one.  While he wished that he had an answer for that, he couldn’t find it within himself to lie.

            “I… I don’t know.  What I do know is that they aren’t the same black as they were.”  His hand moved from stroking through hair to sliding down and gently tracing along the faint pink scars along the dragonslayer’s shoulder blades, another memento of that horrid ritual.  “When you were lost to that madness, they drank in all the light.  It was as if they were made out of pure darkness and they were colder than ice.  Now, now they’re beautiful and have entire rainbows of colour trapped in their depths.  They’re warm and alive and still a part of you.”

            “That stupid witch had black wings and you thought that meant she was going to die.”  Dilandau continued to press with his usual obstinacy.

            “And you did die.  Your dragonslayers said that the priest’s ritual had killed you, but you came back.  Maybe that marked you?”

            “I died.”  In hindsight, maybe he should have kept that little nugget to himself.

            “Only for a moment by the sounds of it… I died too remember, so really, it’s just something we have in common.”  Yeah, he could already tell that it was a lost cause.  On the plus side, that defeated flatness seemed to have left those crimson eyes, allowing them to burn like molten rubies.  On the down side, this likely wasn’t going to end well.

            “I died…”  Dilandau repeated, his jaw clenching tightly as he took another step back and looked around the room, his glare hot enough to ignite anything flammable.  “I died and you assholes didn’t follow through with my orders!?!”  Well, at least he was mad at the ghosts and not Van, that was an improvement.  Gods of Gaea, Van really had been surrounded by crazy for far too long if this was what his life had gotten to.

            Showing a remarkable level of self preservation for people who were already dead, the dragonslayers failed to manifest.  The room stayed the same cool temperature and Van was positive that they had wisely hidden themselves as far away from their irate leader as possible.

            “Let me guess.”  He hazarded, rather sure he already knew the answer.  “They were supposed to kill everyone in Freid in retaliation?”  Rather than look chagrined, Dilandau grinned back at him widely.

            “Every living thing down to the bugs crawling on the grass… in fact, even the grass.  Is Freid a wasteland Van?  I’m willing to bet it isn’t.”

            “You have a seriously overblown sense of vengeance, you know that right?”  The king snapped, grabbing the proffered bottle from Dilandau’s hand and taking a rather long drink himself.  There was no way he was dealing with all of this sober.  “You got your revenge.  I don’t know what you did to the priests but Chid was beyond horrified.  You blinded him with some nightmarish curse, slaughtered a rather impressive amount of palace staff and then executed Regent Ishaan in front of everyone.  You got your revenge.  Consider the scales to be balanced between you and that poor country.  Leave them alone, they’ve suffered enough.”

            “There is no “enough” Van.”  Dilandau snatched back the bottle from the king’s hands, utterly ignoring the unopened one he already held.  Both of them seemed to find the property of the other to be the more appealing prize.  “They claim to worship us and look what they did to me!”

            “They worship the memory of the Atlanteans, the ideals of a race lost to memory until now.”  Van returned, allowing the albino a few more sips of the wine before taking the bottle back for himself.  “I’m pretty sure that after this, they’re going to be seeking enlightenment elsewhere.”

            “So, I blinded the brat?”

            “Yeah… focus on what’s important.”  Sarcasm dripped from his words but naturally went unheeded.  “Something about him seeing people dying whenever he looked at them.  Congratulations Dilandau, even if he ever gets rid of that curse, he’ll be traumatized for life.” 

            That seemed to mollify the dragonslayer somewhat and he stepped back into Van’s arms.  Those crimson eyes studying him for a long moment before long pale fingers reached up and stroked along Van’s cheek, tracing a path imitating Dilandau’s scar.  It was a gentle and comforting touch which didn’t give a single hint of warning before a sharp slap impacted against his jaw.

            Stumbling and attempting to regain his balance, Van cupped his now throbbing cheek protectively, tasting blood on his tongue.

            “That’s for leaving me to die in those damn dungeons!”  Son of a…  The lip which had been previously split had pulled open again and his head rang from the impact but before he could work up a proper retaliation, strong fingers tangled themselves in his hair and yanked his head forward.

Bracing himself for another attack, Van was shocked to instead be met with silken soft lips tenderly pressing against his own.

Bearing the tart taste of wine with that familiar hint of fire smoldering beneath, it was impossible not to part his own lips in welcome.  They promised more than words could ever say and the soft moan which accompanied the kiss threatened to make his knees melt in pleasure. 

            “And this is for coming back for me.”  The words were a whisper against his lips but he felt the crushing weight beneath them. 

Daring to look up into those strange eyes, Van utterly forgot the ache in his jaw or his aggravation over the previous conversation.  There were worlds of things left unsaid in their depths and he could feel them press against the bond between them. 

In a life of pain and terror, he alone had shattered the darkness and fulfilled the promise of protection.  Only Van, the one who’d caused the pale teen so much pain, had opened up the door of that lonely dark cell, letting in the light.  Only he had chased away his torturers and pulled him from the icy metal table.  Only he had pushed back the spectre of death.

So many empty vows had etched themselves across the dragonslayer’s heart.  So many times he’d dared to believe in someone only to have those noble intentions fall apart and be scattered like ashes after a fire.  Finally, after so long, someone had held true to their word.

“You came back.”  Though barely more than a whisper, it reverberated between the two of them, filled with power and promise.  Fingers released their hold on his jaw only to slide back up into his hair, pulling the king into another kiss.  Deeper, radiating a fierce passion, Van could feel the pent-up energy sizzle between them.  His lips tingled, his heart raced and lightning danced up and down the length of his spine before settling into a simmering pool of heat in his groin.   

            Maybe someone as suave and sophisticated like either Allen or Dryden would have had some witty and smooth line on the tip of their tongue saved up just for this moment.  Van, however had never been one for clever words, but as he deepened the kiss, he let his passion speak for him and if Dilandau’s reaction was any sort of indicator, it was pure poetry. 

Sliding his hands between them, he took a moment to feel the sharp planes of Dilandau’s firm and rather well-formed chest before shoving the dragonslayer backwards hard enough to slam him into one of the heavy metal frames of the windows.  Before Dilandau could recover from having the wind knocked out of him, Van seized his lips in another fierce kiss, pressing their bodies together once more. 

He thrilled at the feel of the other teen’s heart hammering against his ribs and loved the way that soft breath shuddered against his lips as Dilandau tried to get more oxygen into his lungs and growl at the same time.

For a moment, the dragonslayer struggled, annoyed at the rough treatment despite his own earlier violence, but Van caught those slender wrists in his hands and pressed them against the glass on either side of them.  The soft growl of warning became a moan of pleasure and those silken lips grew firm and hungry against his own. 

Despite his submissive position, that hot wine flavoured tongue still invaded his mouth with the intent to conquer.  Those leather armour clad hips rocked up, brushing across the king’s groin in a rather tantalizing manner.  Van was having none of it however and pulled away just far enough to take in the swollen lips and flushed cheeks of the dragonslayer.

The frustrated frown on his face was beautiful and Van drank in the sight of those fierce eyes, so defiant and hungry.  That smooth pale chest rose and fell as if Dilandau had just won some sort of heated battle and a smirk tugged at the king’s lips as the knowledge that he’d been the one to cause that reaction warmed him right down to his toes.

Still, Dilandau had been warned about his bad habits, and as much as Van wanted to fall back into his arms, he wasn’t about to simply let that slap pass without reprisal. 

An arm snapped up as quickly as a striking viper, catching Dilandau’s jaw in his hand.  Squeezing tightly enough to be uncomfortable but not painful, Van forced the dragonslayer’s head back, barring his throat. 

With his now free hand, the pale teen grabbed at Van’s wrist defiantly, but the king was stronger and gave that slender jaw a warning squeeze.  While he didn’t exactly let go, Dilandau stopped trying to pull the hand away and instead watched the other teen warily.

“I told you to stop hitting me.”  He growled at the pale teen even as his head darted forward.  Teeth nipped sharply at that supple neck, once… twice, before delivering a harder bite just beneath the tender skin of his ear. 

He’d noticed before just how sensitive an area it was for the other youth and took full advantage of it now.  The reward was immediate as Dilandau let out a high-pitched cry so full of desperate need that Van felt his testicles clench in response.  Suddenly finding himself supporting the near boneless weight of the taller teen, Van deepened the bite and felt the shudder pass through the pinned body.

Releasing the other hand, Van allowed it to trace across the silken skin of Dilandau’s abdomen, thrilling at how his muscles clenched deliciously under his touch.  So much power at his command, eager to please with a need bordering on desperation.

Emboldened, the hand slid down lower, fingers unfastening several buckles by feel alone before sliding beneath the leather cloth to stroke the heated skin beneath.  It didn’t matter that this was where Dilandau normally took the lead.  Today, Van wanted it all and he wasn’t about to hesitate in taking it.  Not that the other teen seemed to mind.  His back arched sharply as he once again attempted to press their bodies together, whimpering Van’s name fervently. 

Encouraged by the response, his hand released the dragonslayer’s jaw and slid up to tangle his fingers into that soft white hair.   Still not willing to relinquish any control, he pulled Dilandau’s head back, further exposing the tender throat.  Every minute tremble against his lips was a symphony of need and he allowed himself to revel in the feeling of absolute power he held over the other teen.  That perfect and complete surrender was addictive and Van drank it in eagerly even as his fingers unfastened another buckle and claimed more flesh for his own.

Too much power.

Hitomi’s words came rushing back to him as the realization of what he was doing hit him with the power of a charging dragon.  Gasping sharply, Van released his hold on the dragonslayer’s hair and snatched his hand back from the depths of Dilandau’s pants quickly enough to make the taller teen yelp in surprise.

Always quick to recover, Dilandau surged forward, hooking his leg behind Van’s and sending them both tumbling hard to the floor with the king on the bottom.

Dazed by the impact, it took Van a few moments to realize that his clothes were being moved aside.  In fact, it wasn’t until the hot wet heat of Dilandau’s mouth surrounded his achingly hard erection that the king burst into action.

For several seconds, Van lay there, his head spinning as sizzling sensation sparked along every nerve in his groin, lighting up his nerves with white fire.  Gods of Gaea, no one should be that good with their tongue!  He could lay here like this forever and still die a happy man.  This was perfection, it was bliss, it was… dammit!  It was wrong!

“We… we can’t do this!”  Van gasped out, hating himself with every fiber of his hormonally filled being as he tried to pull those cruel lips away from his straining flesh.  This wasn’t fair dammit!  He wanted this so badly!  They both did!  The very idea of just driving himself up into that delicious waiting heat was orgasmic in and of itself.  Why couldn’t he just let it happen?  They belonged together and they both knew it!  It was destiny!  What could possibly be wrong with that? 

 

Everything.

 

Grabbing fistfuls of silken hair, the king forcibly wrenched Dilandau’s head back, ignoring the cries of his suddenly cold and abandoned flesh in order to meet that searing hot glare with one of his own.

“Listen to me Dilandau.”  He continued, putting every ounce of will he could into the words and wishing with all his heart that he could be suddenly struck mute.  “We can’t do this!”

“If this is about the corpses, I don’t care at this moment and neither do they.”  Dilandau growled softly, the prefect picture of thwarted lust.  It took everything Van had to not stare at those swollen and rosy lips, glistening with saliva, obviously eager to wrap themselves around his throbbing erection once more.

Ugh, he’d totally forgotten that they were in a room full of corpses.  That certainly didn’t help things morally, not that his libido seemed to be overly concerned.  Of course, that was hardly the main issue weighing on him at this exact moment.  Gods of Gaea, he’d really fallen far in a short amount of time.

“It’s not about the bodies.”  He replied, struggling to keep his voice steady and not break eye contact.   His grip on Dilandau’s hair stayed tight and firm, demanding the albino’s full attention for what he had to say.  “It’s about the bond.”

The light of lust vanished so abruptly and thoroughly that it was as if someone had thrown a switch inside the dragonslayer and Van could feel him tense against his body.  Those beautiful lips pulled back into a sneer.

“Oh.”  Entire books could be written about the things unsaid behind that word and Van truly wished that he knew how to navigate the minefield currently straddling him.  Fancy words and manipulations weren’t going to win him any ground with Dilandau and he knew it.  All he could do was be honest, blunt and hope for the best.

“I love you Dilandau.”  Best to open with that before the dragonslayer thought he was being rejected.  He’d already seen how well that went over.  “I want you so much.  Gods of Gaea, you can see how much I want you right now.”  Absently he motioned towards his still aching and swollen shaft which was currently wondering where all of that delicious heat had gone and why it was being ignored.

“If we go any further, than this, what happens to you?”

Sitting back, Dilandau knocked Van’s hands out of his hair and gave him a withering glare.  In one smooth movement, he stood up, taking a moment to adjust his pants around his own rather obvious erection.  Turning away, he seemed to utterly dismiss Van and walked over to the corpse of the commander, still slumped in his chair.

Without a word, the dragonslayer reached over and took the sword from the cadaver and held it up, examining its quality.

All too aware that he was now laying on the floor with his penis hanging out while Dilandau stood there, armed and armoured… mostly, Van took a moment to tuck his manhood away then sat up slowly.  He forced himself to take no other actions.  Who know what would set off the volatile captain?

“So don’t touch me.”  He replied to the king, his voice soft and calm as he shifted the blade, admiring the way the sunlight played along its razor-sharp edge.  “We’ll both be chaste good little boys and return to Astoria.  I’ll go back to grovelling for Gaddes to take me back.  He can look down at me with pity and disgust, seeing me not as a person, but as a thing, a victim.  I’m sure that will only be compounded once he finds out about what Shroden did to me.” 

Though softly spoken, the poison dripped from every word, causing Van to wince.  He couldn’t even deny the truth behind them because he knew Gaddes, knew how protective the man was of Dilandau.  He’d have spent the past few colours likely blaming himself for their kidnapping, and if he asked what had happened to them, Dilandau would answer.  He’d have no choice.

“Of course, maybe he’s put all of that behind him… unlikely, but possible.  In that case, are you ready to watch me fall into his arms like a good little mindless whore?  To see how it won’t matter to me that he betrayed my trust, how he turned me away when I needed him.  So long as he lets me ride his cock and worship him with every ounce of my being.

“You know how all of this crap in my mind works.  Empty Fate, you likely know better than I do at this point.”  Dilandau continued idly.  “What I do know is that the more often Gaddes rejects me, the more the bond between us weakens and that means that there’s less there protecting me from Shroden and his cronies when they bring me to heel. 

“It’s pathetic really that the sadistic pedophile is the only one who’s never rejected me.”

“Dilandau.”  Van winced at the sharpness of his own voice, but he wasn’t about to sit there silently while his lover played these mind games.  “You’re not going to manipulate me into having sex with you.  You’re certainly not going to guilt me into making you my slave.  I want us to be equals!  Partners!”

“Then ask me what I think about it before assuming that you’d be using me!”  Dilandau shot back, rage flickering in his eyes, making them glow dangerously.  “Do the one thing no one has ever thought to do and actually ASK me what I think!”

“Shroden already made it clear that you’ll do anything you can to make sure you’re bonded!”  Refusing to sit down any longer, Van stood and drew himself up to his full height, glaring at the other teen and refusing to back down.  “You were isolated for three days Dilandau.  You were traumatized and tortured and Gaea knows what that did inside your head.  You’re looking for balance, an anchor so you can center yourself and I’m not going to help you destroy yourself in doing it!”

“So because my brain is fucked up, my opinion is invalid.  I have no say in what’s going to be done with my mind or body?”

“What I’m saying is that we can’t just rush into this no matter how much we might want to.  This is a permanent thing Dilandau.”

“And what everyone keeps forgetting that this isn’t some new thing for me Fanel.  This IS my normal.  I have had Anchors for my entire life.  I was designed to need them.  Just because I didn’t know about them doesn’t make them any less valid.”  Crimson eyes glared into mahogany, neither teen willing to give ground.  “All I’m asking is to have a choice.  For the first time in my life, I want a say in who my Anchor is.  Empty Fate Fanel, we’re already bonded.  Can’t you feel it?”

Van wanted to keep arguing but with those words, he felt the ground beneath him start to crumble.  Hadn’t Momma used those same words?  Bonded, married.  Their souls were joined together, their powers shared between them.

“You can rip the madness out of me for fucks sake!  We can speak through each other’s thoughts and if you think that I would EVER willingly hand myself over to an enemy country with a grudge against me then let them throw me in a damn dungeon just because someone other than you asked me to, I have a big surprise for you.”

“What… what are you saying?”  Van stared at the other teen, one part of him desperately wishing that this was true, that they’d already succumbed to the inevitable and emerged unharmed.  The other and far more practical part warned that Dilandau was far cleverer than anyone ever gave him credit for. 

The sorcerers of Zaibach might have trained him to be a bloodthirsty warlord, but they’d designed him using Folken’s body and blood.  At his core, Dilandau was the true heir of a man whose words and schemes could alter the destinies of worlds.

“What I’m saying is that you’re already my damn Anchor Van.  I don’t know when or how, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”  As he spoke, Dilandau moved closer and closer until he could reach out and gently cup Van’s cheek in the palm of his hand.  “Maybe it was when we exchanged feathers, maybe it was when you protected me on the ship, or our time in the cell.  All I know is that there’s a connection between us that I can’t explain and don’t understand.  What I do know however is that it’s saved our lives several times already and it’s likely what brought me back in Freid.”

Leaning forward, Dilandau gently brushed his lips against Van’s.  The touch was tender and sweet, sending shivers through both their bodies and electrifying their nerves.  Trapped between their bodies, the twin feathers began to glow softly.

“Are you truly willing to throw it away?  To throw me away?  Because that’s what you’ll be doing, and I’ll never forgive you for it.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”  Van replied softly, his eyes fluttering closed as he savoured the feel of those gentle lips against his own.  “I love you the way you are.  I love how frustrating and fierce you are.  I love fighting with you, making love to you, I’m scared that if we do this, that it will all go away.”

“But if we don’t take this risk, I can guarantee that it WILL go away Van.  I’ll belong to Gaddes and Shroden.  You’ll no longer have any claim over me.”

“I hate this.  It’s not fair.”  He could feel Dilandau’s lips move against his own as the dragonslayer smiled, the soft breath of his chuckle brushing across his cheek.

“If life was fair, Celena never would have been kidnapped and you’d still be king of a thriving if somewhat dragon infested country.  Personally, I wouldn’t have our lives be any different than they are right now.”

“I’d rather have had my country not be burned to a crisp.”

“Well, then you wouldn’t have run, we’d have captured you immediately.  Then you’d have likely joined Folken without much of a fight and I’d have never gotten to set Astoria on fire.  It would have all been dreadfully boring.”

“You have a very strange way of looking at things.”  Van couldn’t resist a chuckle despite remembering how horrible that night had been, full of flames, screaming and terror.  That psychotic cackle had haunted his dreams for weeks after the battle, as had the stink of burning flesh.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, yet here I am with you in my arms.”

“Hmm, you do make a good point.”

“Yes, I do.  Now the question remains.  What do you want to do with me?  You already know my opinion on the matter.”  As Dilandau spoke, his hands began to teasingly slide around Van’s waist, pulling them close once more.

“I still want to hear you say it.  You said that no one’s ever asked you who or what you wanted when it came to bonding, so I’m asking you now.  Dilandau Albatou, will you permit me to make love to you?”  He could feel his cheeks burning as he asked the question but despite his embarrassment, refused to drop his gaze from those beautiful ruby eyes.  The way they flashed with surprise and then seemed to smoulder with heat made his own blood burn in response.  It was made even better when those tantalizing lips once again brushed against his own.

“So formal.”  Dilandau chuckled softly in approval.  “You make it sound as if you’re asking to court me.”

            “Er… Actually, I think it’s a little late for that.”  Van murmured before he could stop himself.  He instantly regretted the words as he saw those pale eyebrows rise up slightly, silently demanding an elaboration. 

            “Oh?”  He was rapidly growing to hate that word.

            “See… While in Freid I saw Momma Fortuna again… and… she said that we were sort of … um…”

            “Your eloquence never ceases to astound.”

            “Shut up.”  Van snapped more out of habit than anything, earning himself an amused and indulgent grin from the dragonslayer.  Taking a deep breath, he decided to just blurt it out and face the consequences.  “She said we’re married… or at least the Atlantean version of it.”

            “Married.”  Maybe he should have waited until Dilandau didn’t have a sword in hand because Van really didn’t trust the flat lack of inflection in how he’d said the word.

            “Er… yeah.”

            “And when did this happen?”  Yeah, he was taking this far too well.  Van was a dead man, he just knew it.

            “… When we exchanged feathers in Astoria.  Apparently Atlantean marriage is performed by the pair exchanging their feathers and vowing to create a new life together…”

            “Convenient.”

            “Um… it is?”

            “Well I’d hate to have had children out of wedlock.  That would just be tacky for a king.”  Opening his mouth to automatically protest that Ignis and Irma were their siblings, not children, Van instead closed it without comment.  This really wasn’t the time to split hairs.

            “Did you now about this custom when you gave me your feather?”

            “Of course not!”  Van grabbed onto Dilandau’s shoulders tightly and glared into those eyes once more, deeply insulted at the implication that he’d ever do anything so knowingly duplicitous.  That was Zaibach’s territory, not his.  “I was trying to make peace between us, that’s it.”

            “I’d call that mission accomplished then.  So… do I get a fancy title or anything?  Fate help you, if you call me Queen I will feed you to Kamata.”

            “Er… no…”  Van felt it best to not point out that he had in fact done that exact thing.  “You’d be Prince Consort.”

            “You are NOT my king.”

            “…Legally, I sort of am…”

            “Please tell me that I’m drunk and that this is just another hallucination.”

            “What, am I that bad that you don’t want to be married to me?”  Now it was Van’s turn to be upset and he closed the distance between them, forcing Dilandau to take a step back or be bowled over.  “What happened to all that talk about bonding and anchors.  How is that any different than this?” 

            “Well for one, who in the name of fate expects a surprise marriage?  When were you going to   tell me?  After we had sex and you found out that I wasn’t enslaved to you?  A nice little “Oh hey Dilandau, good to see your brain is still yours, by the way, I legally own your ass?”  Is it even legal in Fanelia?  I mean, I know you people tolerate homosexuality but this… and you…us.”  If it wasn’t such a serious topic, Van would almost find this amusing.  He was rather sure that he’d never seen Dilandau so utterly flabbergasted.  Still, he didn’t dare crack a smile.  The dragonslayer still had the sword after all.

“I mean, politically speaking, you just ruined yourself.  It will be even worse if anyone ever finds out about the whole Folken sort of being my father thing.  That’s going to be awkward, but hey, at least our kids turned out alright, so that’s something.  Well… maybe not Kamata.  He’s got issues.”

As Dilandau spoke, he began to pace and neatly popped the cork on the second bottle, taking a long drink between rants. 

“Your people are going to straight up revolt.  I mean seriously Van, what were you thinking?  I put your damn country to torch barely two years ago.  I’m sure some of them are still holding a grudge.”

“It’s not like I actually planned on it happening like this you know.”

“Oh, so now you don’t want to be married to me?  You cad!”

“I was planning on asking you dammit!”

“When?”

“Well maybe when our lives weren’t in immediate danger!”

“Seriously?  Have you met us?”

“Oh for the love of…. Fine.  Dilandau Albatou ni Schezar, will you marry me?”

“Wow, could you sound any less romantic?”

“Just answer the damn question before I strangle you!”  All in all, this was NOT how he’d planned to ever propose to his future spouse.  He could picture future scholars studying this moment and shaking their collective heads.  Gods of Gaea, even Folken would be hiding his head in shame.

Staring expectantly at the dragonslayer, Van couldn’t help but noticing that the taller youth looked absolutely off balance, his eyes darted all around the room, focussing on anything other than the king standing right there in front of them.  He was frantically searching for a way out of this conversation but not finding any.  Unwilling to help, Van crossed his arms over his chest and waited, one dark eyebrow raising expectantly.

“This shouldn’t be that hard to answer Dilandau.”  He couldn’t help but grumble irritably.  “We’re already married after all.”  Dark eyes narrowed dangerously, and Van opened his mouth, prepared to launch into a rather scathing tirade regarding Dilandau’s character but a sharp beeping from behind them stole their attention.

Spinning around, Van prepared to face this newest danger whereas he was positive he heard Dilandau give a sigh of relief.

“Proximity warning!”  The dragonslayer stated with far too much enthusiasm for the given situation.  “We’re under attack!” 

“What amazing timing.”  He deadpanned as Dilandau practically raced towards one of the nearby consoles and began to fiddle with various buttons and dials.  Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t making the sound go away, in fact, it was getting louder and even more irritating.

“I know right?!”

“Could you at least pretend to sound put out?”

“An attack means that I can hop into an alseides and blow something out of the sky Van.”  Dilandau explained in a tone of voice which suggested that he was speaking to a particularly dim child.  “Do you have any idea how much I love doing that?”

“About as much as you enjoy sex?  Something I should point out that you’re NOT going to be getting at this rate.”

“It’s hardly my fault that someone is attacking!”

“A rather quiet attack don’t you think?”

“Do I really need to explain the word Proximity to you Van?” Dilandau’s allowed himself a slight smirk as he met the king’s glare of death.  “They’re closing on us from the east, quadrant Seven.”

“Pretend that I understand what that means.”  Flashing the king a somewhat exasperated look, Dilandau gestured behind them with one hand while the other silenced the alarm, granting them a sudden and blissful silence.

“That way.”   A lot of things lay in that direction, few of them friendly.  “It’s got Zaibachi registration and it’s hailing us.”  Of course it was.  Because the last thing they needed was for the Zaibach Empire to get a hold of either of them.  They’d be right back where they started.

At least Dilandau seemed to have the same line of thought because he glanced over at Van, a hint of that familiar bloodthirsty smile gracing his lips.

“Shall we head out and say hello?”

“I don’t really fancy flying over there as is, but that alseides in the hangar looked like it might have seen better days.”  He admitted.  While he was fully prepared to take down the approaching ship, he knew that they would need more weaponry than two swords and bad attitudes.  They’d need guymelefs.

“There are three other hangars on this ship.”  Dilandau replied without hesitation, grabbing onto Van’s arm and tugging him towards the door with all the excitement of a small and somewhat homicidal child.  “Standard battle practice is to hold twenty percent of active units back for reinforcement in case of a route.  There should be plenty of available machines to choose from, all prepped and ready to go.  Come on!”

Having no choice but to follow, Van allowed the captain to drag him through the labyrinthine hallways, once again seeming to know exactly where to go as they travelled deeper and lower through the ship.

“How do you even know where to go?”  He finally asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.  “Have you been on this ship before?”  Unsurprisingly, Dilandau was barely paying attention to him, his focus fixed solely on the upcoming fight.  It took Van elbowing him sharply in the ribs to get him to answer.

“Hmm? Oh, that.  Every floating fortress is designed with the same basic layout.”  He replied absently, continuing to tug the king along behind him.  “It’s the same with our bases, camps and cities.  Makes things simple for the troops, and it’s not as if anyone unauthorized is ever going to be wandering around… Unless you know, the Strategos decides to be a traitorous idiot and let his little brother take a self guided tour around the Empire’s flagship despite being a fucking prisoner.”

“Still haven’t let that one go have you?”

“Obviously not.”  Dilandau flashed him a quick grin, giving his arm another tug.  “Hurry up, we’re going to miss the fight!”

“You know, funny thing.  I think that’s not going to be much of an issue…”  Van muttered more to himself, fully aware that he was once again being ignored.  He was about to snap at the other teen but as Dilandau quickly tapped in the elaborate code on the door panel and stepped into the icy cold and rather terrifyingly breezy hangar, Van found the words drying up in his throat.

Seeing a large number of alseides standing silently in an astorian hangar was one thing.  Seeing then hanging there in their restraints, cloaks whipping in the wind as they waited, ready to drop down and spread fiery death on the world below was quite another.  He found himself skidding to a halt and just taking a moment to stare as the sheer amount of firepower hanging there.

Naturally, Dilandau hadn’t noticed the king’s lack of forward momentum and was heading directly towards the nearest machine with a face splitting grin and a somewhat ominous sounding cackle.

“You know that I have no idea how to operate one of those.”  Van warned, fully aware that the dragonslayer had likely utterly forgotten that little fact in his rush towards imminent bloodshed.  Naturally, that didn’t slow Dilandau down in the least as the albino stepped out onto the narrow catwalk and opened up the hatch of the guymelef, revealing the claustrophobic interior. 

Instantly, memories filled Van’s mind.  Hours lived in the cramped cockpits, nearly fully submerged in the thick cool liquid metal and breathing in the filtered air.  He remembered the screens filling his vision, the countless buttons and switches, each one controlling some new and strange function of the lethal machine. 

He remembered great battles, hunting dragons, tearing through enemy armies.  The feel of a crima sword piercing armour and fighting with trusted allies at his side.  Moving in perfect tandem with each other, complimenting every attack, coordinating his movements with those around him until they became a single flowing unit.  Lethal and merciless.

He remembered them burning.  The stink of blood mixing with crima fire as their coms allowed him to hear their last moments, those final pain filled shrieks as their lives ended.

A hand gently rested on the king’s shoulder, snapping him out of his dark thoughts.  It took a few moments to realize that he was still standing there, still staring at those huge unmoving machines.  His body was shaking and a light sheen of sweat graced his brow as he continued to hear the faint shrieks of the dying.

“I dreamed about riding in these.”  He admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.  “Over and over again when we were in that cell.  I dreamed your life.”  Fully expecting Dilandau to pull away, he was more than a little surprised to feel that hand give his shoulder a gentle squeeze and a voice whisper softly in his ear.

“Was it really that bad?”  Van couldn’t tear his gaze away from those hulking machines and the promise of death which surrounded them.

“Sometimes.”  He replied, swallowing loudly.  “Sometimes I don’t know how you kept going… other times, it was the most beautiful and brilliant life I’ve ever imagined.”

“I dreamed your life too.”  Dilandau looked over at him, a soft smile touching his lips.  Though he’d suspected it, hearing it said still caused the king to blush and his mind to suddenly flash over hundreds of embarrassing private moments, wondering which ones the dragonslayer had borne witness to.

“Oh?”  There was a false casualness to the word and he knew that the albino had heard it clearly because that smile shifted just enough to become playful.  “What did you think?”

“Hmm… boring mostly.”  Despite the blasé tone of voice, those crimson eyes practically danced with amusement.  “Though there were a few brief moments of interest when this gorgeously handsome pale warrior showed up.  He was so brilliant, skilled and utterly fascinating.  I honestly have no idea why you didn’t just throw yourself at his feet and beg him to have his way with you.” 

“You are such an ass.”  Van rolled his eyes at the dragonslayer and swatted him playfully. 

“Harsh words.  My heart breaks.”  Pulling away, Dilandau walked over to what Van figured was a control console and began tapping various softly glowing buttons.  “Come over here.  I need you to operate the release mechanism.”  He murmured absently as several nearby mechanisms began to hiss in a rather worrisome manner.  “It’s simple so don’t worry, even a barbarian could do it.”

“How considerate of the Empire.”  Perhaps there was a tad more snark in his tone than intended because Dilandau paused in his button pushing to glance over at Van, a look of silent question on his face.  Crossing his arms over his chest, the king continued to stare at Dilandau in irritation.

“I’m still waiting for my answer you know.”  That earned him a soft sigh of exasperation.

“Can it wait a little longer?  The whole under attack thing…” 

“And what am I supposed to do while you attack?  It’s going to take me forever to find the hangar Escaflowne is in and I’m not testing out second hand memories a thousand feet above the ground.”

“Actually, we’re more like two thousand feet.”  Dilandau murmured softly, ignoring Van’s ever darkening glare.  Rather than be put off by the king’s reluctance, that mischievous grin seemed to grow even wider. 

“Just because I don’t have a stealth cloak doesn’t mean I can’t be a sneaky bastard.”  Yeah, he really didn’t trust that giggle at all.  “I have a rather brilliant plan.”

“…of course you do.” 

 

 

* * *

        

“What do you mean there’s a Floating Fortress?”  Allen glared at the ships captain in irritation, wishing he could remember the man’s name.  Not that he ever had a reason to speak to the less than pleasant officer who spent more time glaring silently at him than actually flying the ship.  In fact, he was more than half convinced that he was related to the harridan.

“You deaf?”  Yes, a pleasant and cultured individual to be sure.  “I said there was a Floating fucking Fortress.”  There were so many things he wanted to say to the vile urchin of a man, beginning with a rather firm slap and perhaps ending with a walk off the loading plank during mid flight.  Did this man not have any clue how to address a knight?  While the crew of the Crusade might be socially crude, at least they’d always shown some measure of respect.

Gritting his teeth and reminding himself several times that while he might be somewhat allied with the young lord Falafell, the sorcerer and the harridan, that did not necessarily include the crew.  Clearly they still viewed him as the enemy, at least to some degree.  While understandable, it was no less tiring or irritating.

“Have they detected us yet?”

“Their sensors are better than ours.”  Sibille spoke up from behind Allen, causing the knight to stiffen slightly despite himself, his hand absently straying to the handle of his sword… just in case.  “They likely have already known about us for a few minutes.”

“Will they attack?  This is a Zaibachi ship after all.”

“All known Floating Fortresses were destroyed either in the battle or on the orders of your damn Alliance.”  There was no attempt to hide the sneer in her voice and the captain actually spit on the floor in contempt.  “They’re either deserters or pirates who managed to take over one prior to the war.  Seeing as how they haven’t returned our hails, I’d say that we can expect some sort of action any minute now.”

“I see.”  Allen forced himself to continue to stare at the ever-growing form of the enemy ship, noting the size of it and doing his best to estimate just how many potential troops might be on board.  He really didn’t like the numbers he was reaching.

“Do we have any way of repelling an attack?”  That question earned him a derisive snort from both the captain and the harridan. 

“Have you seen any guymelf hidden away on board the ship?”  Sibille sneered.  “Perhaps you think I’m hiding one in my girdle?  Your pig shit allies left us with nothing, remember?  We’re lucky we even have the energist to power this bucket.”

“A simple no would have sufficed.”

“Then no.”  Sweet Jeture he hated the zaibachi people.  Did they take lessons in being bullheaded and unpleasant?  He’d never missed courtly manners as much as he did now.

“I suppose it’s safe to assume that they have some way to attack us?”  The way his luck had been going lately, he wouldn’t be surprised to have an entire squadron of Oreades units fly out like angry wasps in their direction.

“Well, they haven’t changed their course or moved into a more strategic position.”  Sibille mused more to herself than in reply, her pale grey eyes studying the fortress with icy intensity as she momentarily forgot to be a rude little viper.  “Though they haven’t hailed us either.  It’s always possible that the ship is derelict.  Look at the side, you can see burn scarring on the levistone.  This ship likely was at the final battle.”

Narrowing his eyes, Allen leaned forward slightly as he stared at the ship, wondering how hot the blast had been when it had hit the ship.  Could the crew have survived?  The Crusade had narrowly escaped destruction by ducking behind a nearby mountain, but he’d seen the remains of the Zaibach fleet.  It hadn’t been pretty. 

“If it’s still flying, the damage is likely superficial.”

“Possibly, but then why haven’t they gained altitude?”  He was thinking that himself.  Lower altitudes put the advantage on the smaller and much more maneuverable leviship, but the thinner the air, the harder the smaller ship was the control as more of the ships power had to go into keeping the crew and stones from freezing.  Their much smaller stones risked cracking at the higher altitudes, something the massive fortresses didn’t have to worry about.

“We’ve got movement!”  One of the bosuns announced, staring out the main window with a looking glass pressed to her eye.  “One Alseides unit has just been released and is heading out way.”

“Only one?”  Sibille sounded more intrigued than worried, not that Allen could blame her.  It was hardly an attacking force, though honestly, one alseides could easily tear the ship apart if it wanted to.

“Perhaps their communication systems are down?  It might be coming to parlay?” 

“Protocol dictates that it would have a wingman at the very least.  Alseides never travel alone.”

“Stealth cloaks then?”  Sibille glanced over at Allen in mild surprise before a faint grudging smile tugged at her lips.

“I’d forgotten for a moment that you were aware of the Oreades capabilities.  No.  All known prototypes were destroyed in the war.  Any stealth research was destroyed when the Science Academy was razed.” 

All they could do was wait for the thing to approach.  It was better armed, more maneuverable and much faster than their ship.  If it wanted to attack, there was precious little they could do to stop it.  Hopefully, it realized that they were a zaibachi ship and didn’t have any ill intentions.

“The guymelef has shifted to an attack vector.”  The captain announced, his previous arrogance vanishing instantly as he focussed on the act of simply surviving with his ship intact. 

Despite how empty and useless the gesture was, Allen found his hand moving to his sword, preparing to draw it and couldn’t help but notice Sibille mirroring the movement.  Both their eyes were locked on the rapidly approaching armour as it suddenly twisted to the side and executed a rather stunning barrel roll, the long dark cloak flaring out behind it. 

It looked as if it was about to fly right past them, horrifically close, but at the last minute, it slammed to a halt, hovering just above the nose of the ship, forcing the captain to slam the ship into a full stop or crash.

Unprepared for the sudden manoeuvre, everyone on the leviship was thrown hard to the floor in a rather graceless heap.  The poor bosun had the misfortune of slamming into the console, knocking herself out and the captain looked like he might have broken his nose.

Allen had thankfully managed to grab onto a nearby pipe, saving himself from further injury, though he was rather sure his shoulders were going to make their displeasure known to him tomorrow.  Nearby, Sibille seemed to be in a similar state, having managed to catch herself on a chair at the last moment.

None of them dared to say a word to voice their displeasure at the near suicidal tactic of the obviously insane guymelef pilot.  All they could do was stare in utter unbelieving shock at the armour appeared to be actually hovering just above the bridge, the cloak billowing rather majestically around it.

“That… that’s impossible!”  The captain managed to gasp out in shock.  “There’s no way that machine should be able to do that!”

“Clearly, it is not impossible.”  Allen couldn’t quite keep from saying as he studied the war machine warily.  A manoeuvre like the one’s they’d seen could only be performed so flawlessly by a pilot of peerless skill.  It required nerves of steel, split second timing and unflinching coordination… the sort one might hone by performing death defying drops during lethal weather conditions.

As if the pilot heard him, the lower half of the alseides split apart into legs and the machine dropped out of flight mode, landing neatly with it’s feet planted firmly on either side of the bridge windows.  The added weight caused the ship to dip worrisomely, but other than that, it was the smoothest landing Allen had ever experienced.  Considering the sheer level of difficulty in such an action, whoever was piloting that monster was a prodigy.

“This is an ambassadorial ship of Zaibach!”  The captain snarled into what looked like a small radio receiver and Allen grit his teeth as he realized that the man was attempting to challenge the hostile pilot.  “Stand down at once or be considered an enemy of the Empire!”  Both he and Sibille moved as one, lunging forward towards the foolish man but even as they began to move, he saw the arm of the Alseides rise up and take aim.

The sound was so soft, little more than a spitting hiss and a light crack.  The captain stiffened and then slowly slumped over, his knees sagging as his arms fell to his side, dropping the receiver from nerveless twitching fingers.

Allen stared in horror as a thin filament of crima metal seemed to have grown out of the center of the man’s head, piercing him between the eyes.  The captain was clearly dead and likely hadn’t even felt the fatal blow.  Unable to pull his gaze away, he was dimly aware of the utter silence on the bridge.  No one dared say a word or even move, though everyone flinched as the metal claw suddenly writhed like a live snake and tore itself neatly out of the man’s skull, pulling back towards the looming alseides.

The soft whine of high altitude wind blowing across the small hole in the window was a rather ominous background sound and thought it was utterly useless, Allen found his hand straying once more towards his sword.  It gave him a small measure of comfort to see out of the corner of his eye that Sibille was again mirroring his action, likely just as aware as he of their impotence.

From it’s place on the floor, the radio crackled softly once… twice… then a cold clipped voice spoke.  The mechanized distortion making the harsh zaibachi chillingly familiar.

“Put someone less annoying on the com or I’ll shoot this ship down.”

Dilandau!?!  Sweet Jeture!  How in the name of all the gods of Gaea had they managed to quite literally stumble upon his little brother?  The chances were astronomical even despite the fact that they’d been following his trail.  He’d expected to find the boy set up in a camp of some sort, preparing to defend himself, or leading that small army they’d heard about.  A floating fortress though!? 

Once again, the words of General Adelphos echoed in his mind, warning that Dilandau had the ability to subtly alter the odds of things happening around him, of twisting events in his favour… but to somehow manage to find what could very well be the only remaining functional floating fortress on Gaea…He doubted that even those damn Enhanced Fortune Soldiers had been able to pull off something like that!

Shaking himself out of his shock induced stupor, Allen realized the true danger they were in.  Dilandau had been hunted relentlessly for the past two colours.  Who knew what he’d been through to spur those horrific events left in his wake.  Now, here was a zaibachi ship hot on his tail.  No wonder he’d reacted violently.  He had to let him know that the running was over, that he was safe!  He couldn’t risk losing his little brother again!

Tearing his gaze away from the looming figure above them, Allen saw the radio receiver laying there on the floor.  It was their only link to the no doubt desperate dragonslayer.  Lunging towards it, Allen reached out his hand, but before they closed on the precious piece of technology, Sibille darted forward and snatched it up with her free hand.  Even as Allen cursed fervently under his breath, she ignored him, choosing instead to glare fearlessly up at the guyemelf, daring it to cut her down.

“Captain Albatou, why are you firing on a Zaibachi ship!?”  She demanded, not sounding the least bit intimidated despite staring death in the face.  “This is a treasonous offence and you damn well know it you pale faced bastard!”  Well, Allen would like to be able to say that he was going to miss the harridan, but really, he wasn’t.  Bracing himself for the death blow and telling the more noble parts of his conscience to sit down and shut up, he noticed that she was still standing.  More importantly, she hadn’t suddenly acquired any new and fatal protrusions.  It figured.  Luck simply wasn’t with him these days.

“Hmph.”  He could practically picture the sneer on his brother’s lips and the alseides shifted slightly, somehow managing to radiate utter contempt with it’s body language.  “The current Empire can go fuck itself.  This is my airspace and you’re trespassing.”  The guymelef’s arm raised once more in warning.  “Piss off Sibille before I finish what we started at Fort Denue.”

 “Clearly you were more drunk than I thought.”  The harridan snapped, a knife edge smile pulling at her thin lips, giving her a rather fierce look.  “You’re thinking of Fort Magaere.  Fort Denue was where I caught you with my damned ponce of a lieutenant.  Thank you for those mental images by the way.”  Though she sounded utterly disgusted, there was an odd look of pride in her eyes which baffled Allen for a moment before he realized that the mistake on Dilandau’s part had likely been deliberate. 

Normally the knight would consider such a level of paranoia to be rather extreme, however considering that Zaibach had a past of using doppelgangers, not to mention the living nightmare his brother had likely been enduring recently, it actually made perfect sense.  In fact, Allen couldn’t help but feel his own little flash of pride at the boy’s forethought, though that was quickly dashed by the realization that his little brother had apparently been playing rather loose with his favours for quite some time.

“My statement still stands Sibille.  I’m not about to crawl on my belly like a whipped dog, nor am I going to hand myself over as a scapegoat so that chicken shit emperor can kiss his new master’s ass.  You’re at my mercy right now and you know damn well how far that will get you.  Because of Dallet, you get this one warning.  There won’t be a second.”

Light glinted off the tip of another claw waiting in its chamber, ready to be spat out with lethal accuracy should she challenge him again.  Allen could practically see the harridan’s mind calculating just how much further she could push the young captain, and judging by the darkening frown on her face, she wasn’t liking the answers.

“Give me the radio.”  The knight held out his hand expectantly and received a rather savage sneer in reply.

“Oh, that will work well.  How many times has he tried to murder you, you inbred moron?”

“Likely about as many times as he has with you by the sounds of it.”  Allen replied smoothly, his hand never wavering.  “He’s my brother in case you have forgotten.  He won’t kill me.”

“Putting a lot of faith in a kid who has tried to gut you on several occasions.  Didn’t he even succeed once?”

“Well if he succeeds a second time, I’m sure you both will bond over it.”  The knight all but growled at her as he snatched the receiver out of her hands.  Thankfully, it was a simple enough design and Allen was familiar enough with zaibachi technology to not hideously embarrass himself with it.  Pushing the button with his thumb, he prepared to speak as confidently as possible into the little machine.

             Staring up at the huge machine, Allen’s mind frantically searched through all the things he so desperately wanted to say to his estranged brother.  He wanted to yell at him for the nightmarish chaos he’s loosed upon Gaea once more.  He wanted to promise to protect the boy from the world at large, to tell him that despite everything, he still believed in him, still loved him. 

            None of those would likely go over well at all and he’d most likely end up with a neat little hole between his eyes, just like that damnable captain.  Instead, Allen took a deep breath and stared up at the cockpit, imagining that he was looking at that familiar cocky grin.

            “I can’t even send you out to get flowers without you finding some sort of trouble to get into.”  It was hard to keep the lightness to his voice.  After all they’d been through, he desperately wanted to play the part of the protector, but Dilandau’s words spoken so long ago still rang loudly in his ears.  He didn’t need a protector, didn’t need to be coddled.  He needed to be treated like the warrior he was and though it killed Allen to do so, he played along.

            At least he was granted the immediate satisfaction of seeing the mighty alseides take a shocked step back, nearly off balancing itself in the process.  The lethally pointed arm wavered and dropped as Dilandau’s surprised voice echoed over the radio.

            “....Allen?”  Not even the mechanical distortion could hide that single pure instant of innocent surprise.  Unfortunately, it didn’t last more than a moment.  All too quickly, the dragonslayer recovered and the arm once again raised into position, claw tip gleaming ominously. 

            “Allen Schezar, prove to me that it’s you.”  He really hated the way his brother purred his name, sounding like a catkin who’d just been looked in a room filled with baby birds.  Whenever he heard it, disaster had always followed. 

            “Make it good blondie, that toy of his will tear through this ship like it was paper.”  Sibille warned through gritted teeth, clearly loathing being utterly powerless in this situation. 

How did he prove who he was?  Most private and personal information shared between the two of them were double edged swords and could just as easily set the dragonslayer off as cement him as an ally.  Anything else was too deeply personal to be loudly announced on a bridge full of people.

            Surely there had to be something he could say.  Jeture’s sake, they were siblings.  There had to be some sort of connection between them that the boy would recognize!

            “The purple flowers make it tingle!”  He blurted out, not even sure where the words had come from until he’d heard them slip past his lips.  In an instant, his face was brilliant red and he clapped a hand over his own mouth, utterly aghast at what he’d just said.

Everyone aboard the bridge gave him the most confused look but up above, the guymelef leaned forward for a moment before absolutely delighted laughter erupted over the radio, threatening to deafen all of them.  Had he not been so utterly mortified, he might have actually taken great pleasure in achieving such a normal reaction from the boy, but at the moment, all he wanted to do was melt into the floor with the remaining scraps of his dignity.   

            “Oh sweet fate, I can’t believe that’s what you came up with.”  Dilandau snickered loudly.  “Of all the things... those damn flowers...”

            “Yes... well, it’s not as if you were going to give me time to come up with something clever.”

            “Well no, it’s not like I planned to be out here all day.”  He could practically hear the smirk in his sibling’s voice and rather than be irritated over his embarrassment, instead noticed that he felt strangely light.  So many weights had been crushing him for so long and most of them had revolved around worrying about his little brother, but now Dilandau was safe!  Of course, just because Dilandau was safe, didn’t mean that they were.

            “I don’t suppose you’re going to stand down now?”  He asked, still eyeing the raised arm and lethal claws which hadn’t wavered during the conversation.  “You know that I am who I claimed to be.  We’re allies Dilandau.  You’re my brother.”

            The soft hiss of the bridge door opening stole the knight’s attention for a moment and he tilted his head just enough to make out Geesha’s long sorcerer’s cloak before returning his gaze back to the guymelef and it’s lethal ordinance.

            “Yes, well there’s this funny thing about our alliance.” The dragonslayer drawled idly and the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.  “You see, I seem to be doing all the work, and what has that gotten me?  No Schezar.  I think it’s about time that we reassess our relationship.”

            “Remove your weapons and drop them to the floor.”  The voice was so unexpected that at first, Allen didn’t even recognize it.  Turning around fully, he saw the sorcerer standing there, a somewhat apologetic look on her thin face.  The sharp gleam of a knife’s edge pressed against her throat caught his attention moments later, followed by the dark figure standing behind her, partially obscured by shadow.

            “…Van?”  He couldn’t believe his eyes.  How… Why?  No matter how many times he blinked, it was still the Fanelian king standing there, his dark gaze fierce and unwavering, those stunning white wings of his framing his body with a soft subtle glow.  His hands didn’t tremble in the slightest as he held the knife pressed against Geesha’s pale throat and Allen had no doubt that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

            “A lot of things have changed Allen.”  The dark king intoned solemnly, looking almost regretful though no less determined.  “You’re our prisoners.  Disarm now or I swear by the ashes of Atlantis that we will tear this ship apart around you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allen is having a bad day. Really, I mean, the poor guy has these great intentions but fate is just kicking him in the teeth. What's worse is that his wild ride has just started. So much for riding in to the rescue, our boys are doing well enough on their own.  
> Personally, I loved Dilandau being the one trying to avoid acknowledging that they're married. Will this mean no more slutting around with pretty boys that catch his eye or will he still be a good little Schezar playboy like his big brother?  
> Yes, Van and Dilandau do have an abusive relationship going on, but I think they're sort of making it work for them in their own strange way. While I in no way condone hitting your partner (without consent, some people enjoy it) Dilandau won't drop all of his bad habits at once, though Van is actually doing rather well in curbing the worst of his violence.  
> So, is Van an anchor? How the hell did that happen? How will Dilandau take seeing big brother flying around with a madoushi? How is he going to handle seeing Regis with them? Will he and Sibille try to kill each other or will Allen get there first?
> 
> Want answers? Stay tuned for the next chapter!  
> Next Chapter: WTF?!?! More questions, some answers and someone please give Allen something for his headache!


	23. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen and co. are the prisoners of our troublesome teens, but things don't quite go as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a busy month. My grandmother died, I got a girlfriend, won silver in a dragonboat festival and oh yeah... my province is on fire again. Even as I write this, I'm staring out at a yellow sky wondering when I will become BBQ. Hell of a way to celebrate Dilandau's Bday month. We get it kid, you like fire. that's great. chill.  
> ^_^ I've been dying to do a reunion between our two happy siblings and I hope you guys enjoy it! Poor Allen, he's seriously going to have a ulcer.

               “Van, think very carefully about what you’re doing.”  Allen kept his tone of voice low and even, his eyes never leaving those of the king as he struggled to try to figure out just what had happened to bring them to this point.

            Rather than back down, Van instead tightened his hold on his prisoner, the knife pressing dangerously hard against her throat, causing a bright bead of blood to well up along it’s length.

            “I’ll think about it once all of you have put your swords on the floor and kicked them over here.  I’m not an idiot Allen.”  Van’s eyes narrowed dangerously.  “You’re in a zaibach ship with a damn sorcerer.”

            “If it helps, I don’t think he likes me overly much.”  Geetha offered, only to squeak softly as the knife pressed a little deeper.  The look on Van’s face was downright murderous and for a moment, Allen almost didn’t recognize his normally gentle friend.

            “You sorcerer, have five seconds to convince me that I shouldn’t just slit your throat and toss your carcass off this ship.”

            “Van!”

            “Shut up Allen!  Four seconds.”  The sharp edge pressed a little harder, leaving no doubt that he fully intended to carry out his threat. 

            He fully expected the downed woman to blubber out apologies or beg for her life in a cowardly manner, but to the knight’s surprise, she simple stared up the length of the blade to meet those smoldering eyes with a surprisingly calm gaze.

            “I never touched him.”  Geetha replied, still maddeningly calm.  “Yes, I was part of the project, but I worked with a different test batch.  When he killed my main subject, I removed myself from the program.”

            “Geetha,”  Sibille cautioned, her voice low and there was an odd hint of worry in her tone as she noted the sudden tensing of the king’s body.  Either not hearing the woman or simply not caring, the sorcerer continued to look up at Van with unblinking eyes.

            “Zane Shroden is no ally of mine.”  She continued.  “He took everything from me.  Both our subjects had been labelled as successful, but he couldn’t tolerate the competition.”  Her hand reached up to the locket hanging from her throat, cupping it almost protectively in her palm before carefully opening it, showing the young king what was hidden inside.

            From where he stood, Allen couldn’t tell what the locket contained, but he saw Van’s eyes narrow slightly, weighing what he saw against something deep in his mind.  It was infuriating to have no idea what exactly was going on with such a volatile situation, but the knight knew better than to interfere, no matter how much he might want to.  Still, he wasn’t the only one who took a deep breath of relief when the point of that sword pulled back a precious few inches.

            “Get on the radio and tell Dilandau that I’m on the bridge and have everything under control.”  Van glanced over at Allen, his voice tight and strained before glancing back at the sorcerer.  “Your fate is in Dilandau’s hands.  He’ll decide what to do with you.”  As far as words of mercy went, this one didn’t bode well at all and Allen couldn’t quite repress a slight shudder.

            “Your idea of control leaves a lot to be desired.”  The knight muttered, his eyes narrowing as he dutifully unbuckled his sword belt and tossed it to the floor, wincing slightly at having the rather priceless heirloom sheath so callously treated.  At his side, Sibille looked about ready to argue, but he gave her a subtle shake of his head.  This wasn’t the time or place to fight.  They’d clearly used up Van’s last few shreds of mercy in sparing Geetha.

While he had no doubt that they could overpower Van, he had a feeling that while they might gain their freedom, he’d lose something far more important.  Also, there was still that damnable guymelef up above and Dilandau had already proven his lethal aim.

            Frowning heavily, the harridan cast a long suspicious look at the king and sorcerer, likely wondering herself exactly what had passed between them.  Much like Allen, she seemed to grudgingly accept her ignorance.

Further following his train of thought, she gave the looming guymelef a wary glare before removing her own sword belt.  Watching out of the corner of his eye, Allen noted that she had opted to keep her small arsenal of knives hidden. Choosing to hold his own tongue on the matter, the normally honourable knight had to admit that there was a good chance they might need them shortly. 

            Taking a deep and fortifying breath, Allen pressed the button on the radio receiver, taking a moment before speaking to send a quick and silent prayer to Jeture for this to work out for the best.

            “I never thought I’d see the day that you were the distraction Dilandau.”  He grumbled in reluctant admiration as he grudgingly admitted to how thoroughly they’d all been fooled.  It made perfect sense now why his brother had chosen such a flashy entrance, ensuring that everyone was looking at him.  He was positive that even the act of landing on the nose of the leviship had likely been to cover the sound of Van opening one of the ship’s hatches.

            The first rule of war was to expect the unexpected.  It was one which in his narrow-minded focus, he’d failed to remember and now they’d sprung the trap like novices.  After those long vicious colours of the war’s final battles, they’d all grown so used to Dilandau being the brutal storm of madness.  It had been all too easy to forget that the boy was also tactically quite brilliant, something that he had easily exploited.

            “I never thought I’d see the day that you were so easily duped by such a simple tactic.”  Dilandau purred smugly in return, secure in his victory.  “Is everyone behaving Van?”

            Gritting his teeth, Allen shifted and held out the radio so that it would pick up the king’s voice.  Jeture have mercy, Adelphos was right.  The two of them were working together now.  He honestly wasn’t sure if he found that a relief, or mind numbingly terrifying.

            “So far.”  Van stated, giving Geetha another coldly appraising glare.  His voice was raised just enough to be picked up by the device and Allen was surprised to note a sudden warmth in the dark king’s tone as he addressed his brother.  “They were all right where you figured they would be.”

            “Excellent.”  The word was purred out with all the smug satisfaction of a spoiled cat.  “Do make sure that Sibille removes her knives, and I mean ALL of them.  I’d hate to have any further accidents.”

            For a moment, everyone glanced over at the corpse of the pilot, still laying there sprawled on the floor, a small pool of blood staining the deck beneath his head.  Allen fully expected Van to erupt into a fit of outrage at the callous loss of life, but to his surprise, the teen didn’t so much as shrug.  It was as if the corpse was utterly beneath his notice.

            Instead, Van looked back at the harridan, correctly identifying her as the woman in question.  His wings lifted slightly, the movement subtle yet somehow filled with silent menace.

Swearing softly under her breath, Sibille once again shot the looming guymelef a glare of pure murder.  The muttered yet still stunningly graphic and vulgar oaths were impressive, even after her near two weeks of constant presence, but once again, they failed to draw a reaction from Van.  Instead, he focussed on the movements of her hands as she divested herself of a small arsenal of knives. 

Van’s eyes weren’t the only ones growing larger as blade after blade was placed on a pile.  Where in Jeture’s name had she been hiding them all? 

            “Including your tit blade Sibelle, don’t think that I don’t know about that.”  Sneering up at the alseides, the harridan boldly unfastened the front of her shirt, baring a good portion of her bound breasts to the bridge before reaching into her cleavage and drawing out a short yet lethal looking blade.  Boldly holding it up for Dilandau’s perusal, she flipped him a rude hand sign before tossing it on the pile with the others.

            Swallowing audibly, Van stared at the pile, then the woman, a new level of wariness in his eyes.

            “Is that it?”

            “Would you like to come closer and find out?”  The smile she flashed the king would have made sharks blanche in fear.

            “She’ll still likely have some poisons on her as well as other assorted toys.”  Dilandau’s voice crackled over the radio.  “You could strip her naked and still not find all of them.”

            “It would likely be the first time either of you ever saw a naked woman.”

            “Somehow I’ll find the strength to live with the loss.”  The dragonslayer sneered, managing to convey both his disgust and utter disinterest despite the radio distortion.  “Sibille, I trust you understand where we stand with each other.  I don’t have you stripped down and subjected to a body cavity search and you will play the part of a nice and cooperative prisoner.  We’ll both be happier.”

            “Somehow I doubt that.”

            “Is there anyone else on the ship that we need to be aware of?”  Van glanced over at Allen, holding that cool and calculating gaze with his own.  It had been a long time since the two of them had honestly crossed swords with each other and while he hated the idea of standing against his friend, he’d already allowed his trust to put Dilandau in serious risk once.  He wouldn’t do it again.  It didn’t matter that this was his brother.  Allen’s priority was Celena, not Dilandau, and the very fact that he was obviously travelling with sorcerers meant that he couldn’t be trusted anymore.

            They held each other’s gazes for several long seconds in silence and Van felt his heart sink just a little.  Allen would never lie, he knew this for a fact. The man’s honour meant too much to him to tarnish, but silence was permitted.

            The pendulum in the depths of Van’s mind suddenly swung, pointing behind him and without thinking, the king spun around, swinging Geetha in front of himself as a living shield.  The sorcerer stiffened in impact and slumped bonelessly to the floor as Van drew his sword with his now free hand.

Not wasting the time or energy to try to prop her up, Van let her stay where she’d fallen on the floor and pressed his back against the wall.  Placing the tip of his weapon against the unconscious woman’s throat, he tilted his head just enough to look down the hallway but also keep the people on the bridge in his peripheral vision.

            “The Dragonslayers should have taught you that sneaking up on me is a fool’s errand.”  He growled softly down the darkened hallway.  “Come out of the shadows or the sorcerer dies.  Attack me again and Dilandau will tear this ship from the sky.”  The tip of his sword pressed warningly against the unconscious woman’s neck.  While the act made Van feel more than a little cowardly, he wasn’t about to back down.  Sure, he’d told the woman that her fate was in Dilandau’s hands, but he knew that the dragonslayer would place Van’s life so far ahead of that of a sorcerer that it wasn’t even a question.  His honour would just have to learn to deal with it, which was getting easier and easier to do.  “How well can you fly?”  

From where he stood on the bridge, Allen felt the nearly overwhelming desire to curse when he saw the small dart sticking out of the front of Geetha’s robes.  Well, on the up side, at least he now knew where Regis was.  Unfortunately, it was right in the middle of trouble and making the already tense situation worse.  Typical teenagers… these ones especially.

            “Regis, stand down.  Van isn’t our enemy.”  Allen barked out, fully expected to be obeyed and was more than a little surprised when neither teen lowered their weapons.

“I know that, you know that, However, I doubt he agrees with us.”  Was the only reply he received as the voice drifted out from the shadows.  You’d think that he’d be used to that sort of thing by now, but it still came as an unpleasant shock.

“Jeture’s sake.  Regis, I will not repeat myself.  Stand down before someone gets killed!  Trust in Van’s honour and we’ll get through this madness.”

“Only when he removes his sword from my Master’s neck.”  Oh, for the love of…Allen knew that stubborn tone of voice well enough, he’d heard it often enough from Van whenever the king dug his heels in.  Knowing that he was going to have to be the sensible one here, Allen held his hands out to Van in a gesture of surrender, meeting and holding the king’s gaze.

“I swear on my honour that we will not attack you Van.”  He stated.  “Let us call a truce and work together.  Our goals are the same.”

“NO TRUCE!”  Van snarled with surprising venom, his wings flaring out aggressively as something dark and dangerous flared behind his eyes.  Despite himself, Allen found that he’d taken a step back without realizing it and his heart seemed to have skipped several beats.  Jeture’s mercy, what had happened to his young friend to cause such a violent reaction?

“No truce.”  The king repeated in a somewhat more controlled tone.  “I trusted a truce once and it tore away everything I loved.  I won’t make that mistake again.  You’re either our prisoners, or our enemies.” 

“We surrender.”  Sibille spoke up, her voice loud and clear in the silent wake of Van’s demand.  “We agree to be your prisoners.  You hear that Albatou?”  She spared the looming guymelef a dark glare though it was highly unlikely that Dilandau had actually heard hear her.

Allen could only stare at her in shock, unable to quite believe that he’d heard her correctly.  Never in a million years would he have ever expected a woman like her to bow so quickly.

“Close your mouth, you blonde buffoon.  You look more idiotic than usual.”  She snarled at him, quickly crushing any glimmers of respect her actions might have kindled.  “Regis, put your toys away and get in here before you cause any more problems which will get Geetha killed.”

There was a notable pause from the shadows, then a sword, two daggers and a blow gun were tossed down the hallway.  While Allen did feel a slight lessening in the tension between his shoulders, he did note a fleeting moment of annoyance at the realization that Regis didn’t argue with the harridan the way he had with him.

Moving more than a little reluctantly, the youth in question stepped into the light and Van practically growled at the sight of the strawberry red hair and zaibachi features.  Thankfully, the boy had removed his cloak at some point and Allen praised his forethought.  While he didn’t like the idea of duplicity, he was positive that further agitating the king would only worsen the already volatile situation.

“I’m unarmed.”  The boy stated, holding up both hands to show that they were empty.  Van favoured him with a cautious frown, not relaxing in the slightest.

“You’re the kid from the training class.”  He stated.  “The ambassador’s son who was flirting with Dilandau.”  It said a great deal about Regis’ character that he didn’t flush or look at all guilty over this statement.  Instead, he simply nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“The same could be said for you, Your Highness.”  The zaibachi youth shot back smoothly.  “You took great pains to ensure his attention remained fixed on you and none other.”  Unlike the other youth, Van actually turned rather red in the cheeks and he flashed Allen a somewhat guilty look.  It was impossible for the knight to keep from groaning softly as his every suspicion was confirmed right in front of him.

It didn’t matter that this was a best-case scenario.  Who did Van think he was?  Taking advantage of his little brother?  He was a king!  There were proper courtly protocols which needed to be observed!

“Er... in regards to that Allen…”  If anything, Van’s cheeks grew even hotter and he found himself unable to meet the knight’s cold accusing stare.

            “Perhaps it is best to discuss such things when you’re not holding me at sword point.”  Allen stated in a voice which was far calmer than he felt.  He did have the momentary satisfaction of seeing the king’s eyes widen slightly in shock before glancing down at the sword in his hands, as if he’d momentarily forgotten the dire situation they were in.

            “Allen, I…”  The sword tip lowered slightly as Van felt a sudden surge of shame over his actions.  When had he fallen so far?  These were his allies, he’d had his sword at the throat of an unarmed woman… he was an honourable king… wasn’t he?

            “While I’m sure you’re having a fabulous reunion, I’m getting bored out here.”  Dilandau’s voice drawled over the comm, shattering the moment.  As if a switch had been flicked inside Van, he remembered exactly why he’d taken the actions he had.  Visions of Dilandau’s tortured screaming body thrashing about in the bloody dirt filled his eyes, countless times waking up in that cell alone, knowing that his only companion in this hell was being tortured or worse… the agony of unending experiments tearing his body apart as he screamed and begged.

            With a sharp gesture, he motioned for the woman to take the radio receiver from Allen and push the button.

            “Everything is under control.”  He stated loudly, his wings flaring slightly, daring anyone to contradict him.  “Where do you want the ship to dock?”

            “Bay one alpha is open and empty.  The ship should have no problem docking there.  I trust there’s someone here who knows how to fly?  The last pilot had a terminal case of stupid.”  Once more, Van glanced over at the body on the floor and showed no reaction other than a brief flash of annoyance.  His lack of outrage worried Allen more than anything else he’d seen so far and he found himself desperately trying to catch the king’s eye.

            “I… I can fly.”  A thin and somewhat gangly looking woman from the crew stepped forward, giving both the king and the guymelef wary looks.  “I’m the co-pilot and the only other person on this leviship who can fly it safely.”  She was quick to add, eager to shield herself with the dubious protection of this qualification.

            “Good.  Home in on the bay’s beacon and don’t bother me or you’ll meet your partner’s fate.”  Dilandau growled.  “Van, if any of them give you any trouble, just get off the ship.”  With that he stepped neatly off the nose, causing the leviship to wobble slightly as it regained its proper balance.  Everyone watched in silence as it shifted into flight mode and propelled itself towards the waiting fortress, fully expecting them to follow. 

What appeared to be a naive show of trust had left them all speechless, save for Van who felt a chill presence at his side.  It wasn’t enough to freeze his skin or make his breath visible, but it was enough to know that he was not alone.

            Unable to quite contain his surprise, Van nodded his head slightly in the direction of the chill, deeply honoured that one of the dragonslayers had chosen to protect him.  Of course, it was all in the interests of Dilandau, but this was the most autonomy he’d seen from any of them.

            Hanging from his neck, the dark feather seemed to glow with its own inner light, causing a rainbow shimmer across it’s surface. 

            Of course, their link.  Trust Dilandau to find a way to exploit it, using it to spy on the situation from a distance and expand the reach of his most lethal resource.  Still, Van wasn’t about to complain, in fact, he felt rather comforted in the dragonslayer captain’s concern for his well being. 

            If any of the prisoners cause any problems, he would indeed find the nearest exit.  Taking Allen with him, he’d leave the specter to kill those he left behind.

            Unaware of the shadow of death still lurking amongst them, Sibille turned to look at Van, those pale jade eyes of hers sizing the king up.

            “What’s to stop us from ganging up on you kid?  King or not, we can kill you before your little attack dog can haul his pale ass back here.”  In response to her threat, the sense of chill seemed to increase and Van felt the icy malevolence that the dead had for the living.  It was a heady drug, knowing that such lethal power was at his beck and call, that Dilandau had trusted him with something so valuable.  It emboldened the king, allowing him to meet the woman’s cold cruel glare with little more than an icy smirk.

            “Allen has given his word of honour.  He won’t break it.  As for the rest of you.  You’re welcome to try but you’ll be dead before you reach your weapon.”  He replied calmly, staring into her eyes and all but daring her to try.

            There was an almost palpable feeling of their wills clashing against each other, neither willing to bow.  In the end however, it was Sibille who looked away, swearing softly under her breath and crossing her arms over her chest.

            “Follow the damn beacon.”  She snarled to the newly promoted pilot.  “Let’s see what the little bastard is up to.”

 

 

 

            “We have a problem.”  Dryden walked into the room, his long jacket swirling around his legs as he strode over to the small table in the center of the room and poured himself a generous portion of wine.  Pausing for a moment to swirl the contents in the glass, studying the subtle hues of the liquid as he sorted out the distressing news he’d just received.

“King Van and young Lord Schezar have been found within the borders of Freid.”  Millerna slowly lowered the book she’d been reading by the fire.  Allowing herself a faint smile at the surprise written plainly across her husband’s face, she placed the book on the table next to her own wine glass and held it up to be filled.

“I do have my own spy network you know.” 

“I’d had my suspicions.”  Dryden murmured softly as he dutifully poured the wine before topping off his own generously.  “It is both pleasant and distressing to have it confirmed.”

“Mmmm, remember that the next time you choose to flirt with the chambermaid.”  Though her smile was pleasant enough, the heir couldn’t quite repress a shudder at the implied threat and was immensely glad that he’d made it clear to the young girl in question that his flirtation was nothing more than that.  Despite many rumours to the contrary, he was quite devoted to his wife and felt absolutely no need or desire to stray.  She was more woman than he could handle at the best of times.  He had no desire to see her during the worst of times.

“King Aston is furious about Freid.  He’s worried that the young Lord Schezar’s actions could result in a war.”  Flopping gracelessly down in the chair next to her, Dryden managed to not spill a drop of wine, something he was privately rather proud of.

“And what do you think?”  Millerna asked in a low voice, pretending to study her own glass of wine while surreptitiously watching him out of the corner of her eyes.  No doubt she’d already formulated her own theories and plans.  The asking was more of a formality spurred by idle curiosity though Dryden didn’t mind playing along.  He’d long ago learned to respect the razor-sharp intellect of his wife as well as her political acumen.

“Freid is hiding something.”  He murmured, idly tapping his chin as he spoke.  “My original reports stated that Lord Schezar had been taken into custody for trial regarding his actions in the war and that King Fanel had spoken rather… shockingly for him.”  Despite his lackadaisical tone, he chose his words carefully.  Reports had been confusing to say the least.  Several of his spies had stated that Van had actually threatened Duke Freid and Regant Ishaan over the imprisonment of the ex warlord.  Other reports stated that the king was also being held captive while most disturbingly, there’d been reports of the young king being held prisoner by Zaibachi magic. 

“Honestly, it reads more like some sort of tawdry over the top drama than reality.”  He finally confessed with a shrug.  “With those two, anything is possible really.”  Pausing for a moment, he took a sip of his wine and watched his wife, weighing her reactions to his answers with unfeigned interest, curious as to just how much she knew.

“As for Regent Ishaan’s death… Duke Freid is publicly stating it as an accident and isn’t holding either Lord Schezar or Astoria responsible.  The official story is that an explosion went off in the dungeons and the Regent as well as several monks were killed.”

Nodding her head slightly, Millerna slowly stood up and walked over to a nearby tapestry depicting a fanciful garden full of vibrantly coloured flowers and birds.  Idly, she checked and ensured that no one was listening at the tiny hole she knew had been drilled into the wall behind it before turning to speak to Dryden once more.

“And the unofficial story?”

“Ah… that I even find it hard to believe.”  Having risen when his wife did, Dryden now paced back and forth nervously, pausing only to sip sparingly at his wine.  “Draconians, dark magic, Escaflowne suddenly appearing to protect a demon… the Regent being burned alive and Duke Freid being cursed…I’ve seen a lot of strange things Millerna, but this…”  His long fingers ran through his hair, tugging a few strands free from the band holding it out of his face.  “This is madness.”

“Is it?”  She asked softly, turning to face him.  “You yourself have stood at the gates of Atlantis.  We’ve spoken to creatures of legend, seen fate twisted as if it were a child’s toy and entire armies turned to ash in a single burst of light.  Who are we to dismiss the unexpected?”

“Are you saying that there’s nothing odd about Van declaring his undying love for the monster who set his kingdom to the torch?”  There was a slight edge to Dryden’s voice despite his attempts to smother it.  It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like surprises, he just preferred to be the one orchestrating them.  “I saw those two together before all of this mess.  During the war, after the war.  I swear that rabid dogs get along better than those two.”

“And yet Lord Schezar wielded the Sword of Fanelia with Van’s blessing during an honour duel.”  She pointed out calmly, a hint of a smile touching her lips.  “And did not Van himself carry his supposed enemy on his back when they first appeared here?”

“Further illustrating that the king could indeed be under some sort of spell.”

“And what of the tales of him sporting wings identical to Van’s?”

“Yeah… that.”  Dryden sighed softly in frustration, wishing that Millerna would stop smirking as if she’d already put it all together.  Honestly, he had no idea why Astoria simply didn’t allow queens to rule.  This woman could alter the fates of nations with her will alone.

“Scholar Inverness supplied rather impressive files detailing the experiments Lord Schezar had been a victim of.” She continued, her fingertips lightly brushing across the cover of the book she’d been reading, leading Dryden to wonder just what exactly it had contained within it’s pages.  The cover looked like some vapid romance, but he knew his wife better than that.

“While many of the terms don’t translate well into Astorian, it’s clear that he was profoundly altered far beyond the mere twisting of Celena Schezar’s destiny.  There was mention of genetic splicing in conjunction with zaibach magic and fate alteration.”

Dryden frowned at the implications behind her words.  Though this wasn’t the first time she’d attempted to explain the vile process the boy had been subjected to, it still made little sense to him.  Give him facts and figures any day.  Numbers and calculations were his magic, not this strange shadowy art which altered organs and identities.  Honestly, it made him sick to his stomach to even think of what had been done in the name of science.  He had no idea how his beautiful wife could tolerate filling her head with such vile knowledge.

“So, are you saying that he’s not even human?  Not a Schezar?”  The look on the boy’s face when King Aston had sought to strip him of his zaibachi identity wasn’t one he’d ever forget.  The idea of further tearing away at Dilandau’s self image was more than he wanted to ever think about.  It would undoubtedly have far reaching consequences.

“I think both he and Van are more than any of us are capable of understanding.”  She stated simply, pulling her hand away from the book and picking up her glass of wine once more.  “However, I think that the monks of Freid sensed something different about Lord Schezar and attempted to do something about it.  I don’t see them tolerating the dark magic he’s no doubt been saturated in.”

Ah.  Now Dryden was catching onto her train of thoughts, and it was a chilling one indeed.

“So… you think that they took this chance to…”  Jeture, he couldn’t even say it.

“Yes.”  Millerna replied, sparing him the need to elaborate.  “I believe they tried to remove the magics around him and ended up awakening something far worse.”  Despite her level tone, she shuddered deep inside.  The reports she’d been given had been the stuff of nightmares, made worse by the knowledge that one of the victims had been her own flesh and blood.  Chid was such a bright and shining wellspring of goodness in the world, it pained her to know that he was suffering.

Clenching her slender fingers into fists, she silently swore to learn exactly what had happened to her nephew and how to remove the foul curse still plaguing him. 

He might claim that it was an accident and that no ill will had been intended, but if she ever learned that Dilandau had purposefully harmed the boy, she’d make what the zaibach sorcerers had done to him feel tame in comparison.

“Do you think he’s dead?”  Dryden sipped the last of his wine and gently placed the empty glass on the table.  He eyed the bottle for a moment, pondering pouring more but decided against it.  He had a feeling he was going to need a clear head for the next while.  “My informants were vague on that part.”

There was no need to elaborate on who he was referring to, Millerna understood well enough.  Rather than answer him, she turned to look out the large window, staring at the great and majestic rise of the Mystic Moon over the oceans horizon.

“I believe he is still alive.  I also believe that we will be seeing them soon enough.”

“Rumour has it that Basram is up to something.  They’ve stepped up border patrols recently and there was some sort of emergency in their interior.”

“They won’t try anything during the winter colours.”  Millerna stated grimly.  “The weather is too precarious for troop movements and supply lines.  But I believe that this spring will bring war upon us once more.”

“We’re not ready.”  Dryden didn’t need military experience to know this much, and it chilled him to the bone.  “We’ve no one to train our pilots for the new alseides and the guymelef’s that survived the war… we don’t have enough of them to stand up to what’s coming.”  There was no need to add that they simply didn’t have the supplies to sustain the country through another war either.

“Astoria has never fallen.”  Millerna stated with confidence, her eyes never leaving the moon.  “It will stand strong through this trial as it has before.”

“If memory serves, the last time was only because of Hitomi and Van.”  He didn’t mean to be the pessimistic one, but there was no way he was going to willingly blind himself to the very real danger they faced.  Faith was one thing, but active planning held far more weight in his opinion.

“This time, we make our own fate.”  There was the steel of conviction behind Millerna’s words, though deep within her heart, she privately prayed to Jeture that wherever Hitomi was on that world so far above them, she was sending them good fortune.

 

 

It didn’t matter that Allen was technically a prisoner or that Van was holding his sword.  The instant the ship had anchored itself in the hangar and opened the doors, he was out like a shot.  Long blonde hair streaming behind him as he tried to look everywhere at once, hoping to catch that first precious sight of his beloved sibling in colours.

Dimly he was aware of Van calling him back, of the harridan snarling some easily ignored insult and the howl of the wind whipping around him as the huge bay doors slid shut, sealing them in.  None of that mattered as his sharp gaze easily picked out the shining silvery white hair which practically glowed despite being in the shadow of the guymelef.

Before logic could raise its ugly head and remind him that meetings with his brother were always touchy and volatile things, he’d grabbed onto Dilandau and pulled him into a tight hug.  The albino squawked indignantly in surprise, too shocked to dodge the grab or subsequent embrace. 

“Dilandau!”  He cried out, squeezing the leather clad figure in his arms.  “Jeture be praised!  I have you ba-“  Blinding pain exploded though his head as he stumbled back, his vision filled with black spots.  He felt the hot rush of blood flowing down his face even as he dropped to his knees, clutching at his suddenly broken nose, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

“Don’t you EVER touch me without my permission!”  Dilandau snarled from somewhere up above and through tear blurred vision, Allen could dimly make out the shape of the teenager looming dangerously close, sword drawn and pointed at him.

“Oh damn it all.”  Van growled under his breath before raising his voice.  “Dilandau don’t kill the prisoners!  He’s your brother!”

“You… you brode my nose!??!”  Allen sputtered out, still trying to blink his eyes free of tears and choking on the blood filling his mouth.

“That’s not all I’ll break if you try that shit with me again Schezar.”  Dilandau hissed in reply, either not hearing Van or choosing to ignore him.

“Ah, good times.”  Sibille chuckled softly, earning herself a dark look from both Van and Regis.   “Well, I can see that you’ve got this perfectly under control.”  Contempt dripped from her voice and Van paused for a moment to give her a curious look.  How was this woman an ally of Allen’s?  Truly the man had fallen on desperate times to deal with someone like that… she reminded him of Dilandau actually… and that really didn’t say much about himself in that regard. 

“You look like shit Albatou.”  The woman continued, proving that she was either highly suicidal, or was a warrior possessing terrifying levels of skill.

“My condolences Sibille.”  Dilandau purred in reply, his voice giving the impression of a cat flexing its claws.  “You look exactly the same as always.”  That crimson gaze never left hers as the two warriors sized each other up, their bodies both loose and deceptively relaxed.

“You’re pushing your luck Albatou.  This ship is obviously derelict and there’s only two of you.  Don’t forget for a moment that there is still a score to settle between the two of us.”

“I look forward to it, but you seem to be the one forgetting that I’m full of surprises.”  Dilandau’s lips pulled back into a vicious grin, his hand drifting down to rest comfortably on his sword, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.  “You never were one for taking stupid risks Sibille, and I assure you that as of this moment, I hold all the cards.”

“If memory serves, you always sucked at card games unless you cheated.”  Dilandau didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow at the insult, simply waiting to see what Sibille would decide.  Van gave Allen a somewhat concerned glance, unsure as to why this woman was continuing to provoke the volatile dragonslayer.  Unfortunately, the knight was still primarily occupied by cupping his nose with bloody hands and trying to blink his vision free of tears.  He likely had no idea what was going on around him. 

“You _are_ cheating you pale balled little bastard.”  She finally ground out, her finger flexing out of habit, seeking the familiar feel of a blade in her hands.  Rather than answering, Dilandau simply smiled a little wider, waiting for her to make her move, fully aware of his control over the situation.

“I can understand you letting the blonde bimbo live, you always were a sentimental bastard.”  She finally relaxed slightly, watching him warily.  “But why the rest of us?  It’s not like you to be so merciful.”

“Dallet would never forgive me if I gutted you.”  The dragonslayer replied calmly though no one was fooled by it for a moment, especially when it grew wider.  “However, he’ll understand if I feel it’s necessary to break a few bones in order to ensure you take me seriously.”

While the two of them continued to glare at each other, Van noticed the sorcerer inching over to Allen and gently extend a hand to fix his nose.  She murmured something in a soft voice to the knight, likely offering her aid and Allen nodded his head in acceptance.  Though his eyes told him that she was being careful and almost tender in her ministrations, Van couldn’t help but feel his stomach churn at seeing a cloaked figure touching his friend’s bloody face.  Just watching made the memories of screams echo through his mind and the icy bite of a metal needles bit into his skin over and over again, causing a fine sheen of sweat to cover his skin. 

“Get away from him!”  He snarled, taking a step towards the duo, his hand already reaching for his sword.  Energy arched through him, bridging through the air of the hangar, joining the two draconians as if they were a single soul in one body.

Drawn by the power, Dilandau turned away from Sibille, his gaze inexorably mimicking Van’s.  At the sight of the madoushi, Van felt the sudden shift in the energies slam into him, dropping the temperature of the air around him down to a near lethal chill as energy crackled between his feathers. Murderous rage tore through him with such intensity that he didn’t even hear the shriek, or the sound of steel being drawn and swung through the air with the intent to kill.

It didn’t matter whose sword was swinging down for the killing stroke or who’s hands guided it.  They were one in their lethal intent, spurred by a colour of torture, of weeks of terror which culminated in the shocking betrayal of trust. 

Around his neck, the pendant shone brilliantly, echoing the dragenergist glow in both their eyes as they fed off each other’s rage like rampaging dragons closing in for the kill. 

Despite his near blindness, Allen shoved the woman out of the way and lunged forward, catching Dilandau’s arms before he could properly begin his deadly downswing while simultaneously twisting his body, using the dragonslayer’s momentum against him.  Faster than either teen could react, Dilandau was thrown over the knight’s head and square into Van, narrowly missing being impaled on his own sword as the two tumbled hard to the floor.

Not missing a beat, the two of them were on their feet instantly, moving as perfect mirror images of each other, weapons brandished and ready for the kill.  There was no need for words or planning, they both seemed to know exactly what the other was about to do and when Dilandau attacked again, aiming high, Van darted in low.  Using the flat of his blade, he struck the knight’s ankle, scooping it aside neatly even as Dilandau pressed an attack on the opposite side, forcing Allen’s weight onto the compromised leg.

Rolling aside, Allen managed to avoid the following slash which while missing his throat managed to divest him of several locks of hair, but the attack accomplished its goal, which was to get him out of the way.  Now, both Van and Dilandau had a clear path to the madoushi and each hungered for revenge.

Both dove in for the kill, their swords aimed to pierce vital organs and voices raised in triumphant yells.  Frost began to edge their blades, their breaths crystalizing in the air around them as the temperature in the hangar plummeted even further.

Rather than defend herself, the sorcerer simply stood there, her gaze calm and accepting.  The pendant around Van’s neck flashed brilliantly, bathing everything in crimson light before coalescing into a thin shining figure standing between them and the woman.

It wasn’t a dragonslayer.  Though young and uncannily beautiful, the boy was simply too young, barely into his teens and lacking the dark armour the elite troop always wore.  Instead, a thin shift, eerily like the one they’d worn in the labs of Basram clothed a thin body covered in scars, some old, others new and still bleeding.

Both teens froze, their eyes wide as they stared at the spectre in recognition.  Dilandau’s sword fell from suddenly numb hands and the fierce dragonslayer captain took a step backwards, his mouth moving silently as he struggled to form words through his shock.  Van could only stare at the boy from the sorcerer’s files, the woman’s locket…the one Dilandau had named as a friend when he had clearly been so much more.

He wanted to reach out, to grab onto his lover and pull him away, but his limbs remained frozen, unable to move no matter how badly his mind screamed to do so.  All he could do was watch as the specter stepped forward, reaching out it’s softly glowing hand to gently cup the dragonslayer’s cheek with an icy hand, leaving a trail of frost on already pale flesh.

“Rest my Starlight.”  The specter whispered softly, his voice echoing in the air around them.  “There is so much pain inside your soul.  Rest and heal.”

Smoldering crimson eyes drifted closed and Van could feel the shared rage draining away, melting like ice beneath the rays of the summer sun.  He tried to hold onto it, gritting his teeth and gripping at it with his will, but it was like grabbing smoke and it slipped through his fingers.

Glittering tears beaded along silvery lashes, glowing softly with energist light before trailing down smooth cheeks and as Van watched in growing awe and horror, the scar marring Dilandau’s right cheek faded into the skin, leaving the flesh behind unmarked and flawless.

Alabaster skin darkened to pale warm pink and silver hair curled around itself in soft waves, gaining the tints of platinum blonde.  The body within the leather armour grew thinner, gained gentle curves and when Dilandau finally released a soft gentle breath, Van felt the link between them shudder and fall silent.

Pale lashes fluttered once, twice, then opened, revealing large azure blue eyes which stared at the specter with unabashed wonder.

“You’re his Sun.”  Celena murmured gently, her voice soft as a breeze.  “I…I remember you.”

Nodding its head, the specter removed its hand from her cheek and smiled at her once more before turning to face Van.

Looking into those old and tired eyes in such a young face, Van couldn’t help but feel strangely humbled by this strange encounter.  This feeling only intensified when the ghost of the long dead youth placed a delicate hand over his heart before bowing deeply and reverently to the king.  Gratitude radiated from the softly glowing form and despite his previous rage, Van found his sword slowly lowering until it’s tip touched the floor.

“Why save her?”  He found himself asking.  “The sorcerers tortured you both for years.  They forced him to kill you.”  Rather than answer, the specter simply smiled a little wider before looking back at Celena.  There was the sense of something passing between the two, some strange silent understanding which brought a warm smile to the girl’s face.

“Thank you.”  She whispered softly, bowing her head deeply in respect.  Once more, the two shared that strangely weighted look, then the specter vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the two teens standing there facing the somewhat confused sorcerer.

Before anyone could react or even think of forming words, Celena’s fist lashed out, punching the woman hard in the face and sending her to the floor in a spray of blood.  Van couldn’t help but wince as he heard the snap of cartilage, though he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a certain level of satisfaction.

Celena shook out her now bloody hand, a triumphant smile tugging at her lips as she grinned at Van.

“I can see why he likes doing that.  It feels damn good!”  All Van could do was gape in shock, unsure of how to proceed.  From his experience, Celena wasn’t any safer to be around than Dilandau.  Less so actually because she didn’t have the shared experiences or the bond between the two draconians.

Undaunted by his lack of response, Celena stepped up to the king and gave him a gentle pat on the cheek with her bloody hand, either not noticing or not caring that she left a crimson smear on his skin.

“Don’t worry your pretty head.  Dilandau is fine.  His Sun wouldn’t hurt him, he’s just resting for the moment.  Too much trauma to his system in too short a time.  It’s my turn to protect him from the world.  He’s done so much for me after all.”

Hope flared in Van’s heart at her words.  As grateful as he was to see that she hadn’t been destroyed by Freid’s ritual, the thought of losing Dilandau forever was more than he could take.  Still, he couldn’t quite keep back a sharp flare of jealousy as Celena’s blue eyes fixed on Allen.

He stood there, just as shocked as Van, more so in fact. 

“C…Celena?”  All the hope in the world was packed into that name and for the first time ever, Van saw tears glitter at the edges of the knight’s eyes.  “Is that really you?” 

“You look like shit Allen.”  Those likely weren’t the first words the knight had expected to hear from his little sister, though Van had to admit that the exhausted and bloodied knight certainly looked a far cry from his usual splendour.  “Sorry about the nose, but only Van gets to touch Dilandau.  He’s sort of funny about that sort of thing at the moment.”

“It’s you!  Oh sweet Jeture!  It’s really you!”  Allen couldn’t believe the glory of his blessing!  Not only was Celena back, but her mind appeared to have repaired itself.  She was speaking, she was interacting at an adult level!  She was-  The sharp slap across his face was so solid and surprising that the knight nearly fell to the floor as pain burst across his face, aided by his still broken nose.

“That’s for letting Zaibach take me in the first place!”  Celena snapped, her eyes suddenly flashing dangerously as another sharp slap sent him to his knees.  “And that’s for not protecting me in the village!”  She looked ready to slap him a third time, but Van darted forward and caught her hand in his.

Glancing at him idly, he saw the slightest of smiles edge her lips, the look was almost playful, like a cat with a mouse.  It reminded him that most of the girl’s formative years had been as a spectator in Dilandau’s mind.  He would be wise to never forget that she was likely just as unbalanced as her alter ego.

“I’m sorry!”  Allen sobbed softly at the floor, a hand reaching out to touch her armoured boot with trembling fingers.  “I tried… I tried to save you, to bring you back.  I didn’t know how…”

The look on her face softened at his words and Celena knelt in front of him, gently cupping his face in her hands, looking him in the eye as she reached back, running her fingers through his hair.

“I know you tried.”  She murmured gently.  “I know you love me.”  Reaching out her hand, she grabbed onto his nose and with a sure quick motion, snapped it back into place even as he yelled out in pain.  Not even batting an eyelash at the blood coating her hands or the pain she’d just caused, Celena continued to hold his head still.  “I love you too, even though a part of me hates you for what happened.”

Allen opened his mouth to speak, but she gently pressed a finger over his lips.

“Shhh.  Don’t try to explain brother.  If you only knew what they did to me… to us.  If you understood how long I cried for you to come and rescue me, how many tears I shed as they tore me apart and made a new life inside me.  I begged for rescue for so long, then I begged for death.  They gave me something else instead, and in that shadow life, I lived more than I ever would have had I not been taken. 

“So don’t apologize.  Dilandau gave me more than anyone else ever did and while I know you love me, he is a part of me.  He IS me and it’s his body now.  I’m just the one borrowing it.”

“But you’re back!  You’re whole!  So perfectly whole Celena!”  Allen seemed to have utterly forgotten the broken nose or the pain he was in as he continued to stare at his sister in awe, still bathing in the blessing of Jeture.  Everything was perfect again!  It didn’t matter what she was saying or the pain behind her words.  He had his sister back, his impossible glorious sister!

“And you’re not listening to me.  I wish I could find that at all surprising.”  She sighed softly and then glanced over at Van once more.  “I’m only back for a little while.  I don’t want to be here.  I don’t like being here anymore.  This world hurts and I don’t belong in it anymore.  This is his world, I’m just making sure you two idiots don’t do anything dumber than usual.”

“Hey!”  Van finally found his voice and stepped forward, ready to defend himself from her accusations.  “She’s a sorcerer!  She’s one of the one’s who tortured you and Dilandau!  She needs to pay for what she did!”

“Gods of Gaea, how do the two of you ever get anything accomplished.  I swear I’m the only one out of us with a lick of common sense.”  Celena’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Van, her hand clenching into a fist once more, likely preparing to break another nose and make her collection complete.  “It’s amazing the things you notice when you take a moment to actually watch what’s going on around you rather than just reacting all the time.” 

Opening his mouth to argue, Van caught the warning glint in her eyes and shut his mouth, allowing her to continue to speak.

“She knows what she did and isn’t an idiot.  I bet she’s fully aware that you and my darling little brother would attack first and kick the corpse demanding answers.  So why is she here?  Why is she with Allen of all people?  More importantly, why is Allen travelling with Zaibach’s premiere assassin and why is Regis Falafell here rather than training back in Astoria like he’s supposed to be?”  Her eyes narrowed as she glanced over at the figure lurking at the back of the group, doing his best to not be noticed.  “Don’t think I don’t see you there Falafell.  I expect an explanation.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she stood there exactly as Dilandau would, fully expecting an answer which would satisfy her and more than ready to beat the ever-loving crap out of the offender should it not be up to her expectations.

Unlike the others, Regis seemed to take the transformation in stride as he stepped forward and neatly knelt on the floor of the hangar as if facing a king… which Van was quick to remind himself that he was… or would be if the bow had been meant for him.

“My apologies sir.”  The young lord replied smoothly, somehow managing to keep his voice steady despite the shocking transformation.  “But your safety is my top priority and I felt that my knowledge would prove to be valuable in returning you to your proper post.”

“Both Dilandau and I are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves.”  Celena replied curtly, ignoring Van’s soft snort as he struggled to keep himself quiet.  “Do you doubt our abilities?”  The low and dangerous purr edging her voice was pure Dilandau and Van barely repressed a shiver at the sound.  He wasn’t sure if she was simply imitating the captain, or if she’d truly adopted his way of speaking, but the effect was both disconcerting and intimidating.  Clearly, he wasn’t the only one to think so, because he saw Regis swallow nervously before raising his head to look her in the eye.

“Not at all sir.”  To his credit, he sounded perfectly confident in his words.  “But knowledge is more dangerous than any sword, and I believe that there are factors at play which you are unaware of.  Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but that is why Master Geetha is here, as well as myself.”

“I know well enough why a madoushi is here.”  Celena sneered, hooking her foot under her sword and smoothly kicking it up into her hand.  The motion was done with the ease of long practice and Van would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a hot flash of jealousy at the trick. 

A flick of the wrist brought the lethal edge of the weapon to the woman’s throat and the smile tugging at Celena’s lips was every bit as cruel as her alter ego’s.

“I have no idea what pretty lies you’ve been telling my brother, but they end now.”  Her eyes narrowed and grew as hard as the steel she wielded, warning that this was no empty bluff.  “You tell me why you’re here, why you’re searching for us or I swear on the very fate you twisted that I will unleash every possible hell on you.” 

The two women faced each other over the blade of the sword, neither flinching as they held the other’s gaze and no one dared to so much as breath hard, lest they upset the delicate balance.

“I seek atonement for my actions in the Eidolon project.”  Geetha finally murmured, her voice soft but steady, her eyes never wavering.  “If that comes from you taking my head, then so be it, that is your right after all you’ve been through, but in sparing me, you will be saving yourself from a far worse fate in the end.”

“A threat?”

“A warning.”  Celena’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Van honestly couldn’t fault the sorcerer from taking a healthy step back, having one’s nose broken once was enough for one day.

“35’s abilities have always been unpredictable at best.”  The woman continued gamely despite her obvious wariness.  “Shroden liked to sound as if he had everything perfectly under control with his prized pet, but he had barely scratched the surface of what he’d created.  So long as subject 35 remained in a tightly controlled and closely monitored environment, it … er… he was stable enough.  A strict drug regimen kept him contained and regular siphoning of excess fate particles ensured that building pressure was kept within acceptable limits.”

“You did far more to him to keep him contained.”  Celena snarled softly and Van couldn’t help but mimic her expression of loathing, remembering the files, those weeks in captivity… seeing Dilandau willingly holding himself still to be tortured, abasing himself at Shroden’s feet.  His grip tightened on his sword and he’d taken an aggressive step forward before Celena shot him a warning glare, silently ordering him to hold back.

At least the woman had the forethought to look ashamed, her gaze falling to the floor for a long moment before forcing herself to meet those icy cold blue eyes.

“Yes, he did, and in his meddling, he created his own downfall, buried in the center of his brilliant creation.   The instant Captain Albatou experienced the world outside of the labs, Shroden lost control.”  Geetha continued despite Celena’s narrowing gaze, determined to say her piece before death claimed her.

“He was designed to manifest his abilities as a subtle shifting of small events, but proved to have a sensitivity to initial conditions.  Within the confines of the lab, it was simple enough to predict the outcomes following various mathematical probability vectors.  The problem was that once those constraints were removed, this ability sets in motion a chain of events which can quickly grow beyond our abilities to accurately predict.

“Shroden saw this as an untapped energy source, a potential to harness the very powers of creation which would allow him to sculpt the world and the lives within it as he wished.  What he failed to fully consider was the fact that Fate and Destiny are still largely theoretical and unmeasured.  We cannot properly calculate the exponential value therefore cannot properly formulate the divergent trajectories which have the potential of manifesting.”

“What she means,”  Regis cut in gently, noting the rather blank and confused stares of those around him.  “Is that Lord Shroden made a storm in a bottle out of a living being.”  He seemed to pale as he spoke, the weight of the words sinking in as he stared at his idol both in awe and dread.  “Lord Dilandau is the human equivalent of the Basram energy bomb.  What we’ve been seeing, these flare ups of Zones of Absolute Fortune are likely just the beginning.”

“Impossible.”  Celena spat out, her icy gaze sliding from the sorcerer to the youth standing nearby.  “If that was true, why is it only starting now?  Dilandau has been out of the labs for years.”

“Because he might have been out of the labs, but he wasn’t out of the influence of the Madoushi.”  The young lord stated levelly.  “He’d have been drugged, manipulated and Fate knows what else, but after the war, the controls all vanished.  It was only once he woke up that the Destiny Prognostication Engine began to detect spikes in the flow of fate particles.  Since then, they’ve grown exponentially.”

“Exactly!”  Geetha nodded her head eagerly, not seeming to notice how furious Celena looked, or how horrified the others appeared to be.  “Originally, it was noted that adrenaline caused the flare ups, generating vast amounts of fate particles as a defense mechanism, at least, that’s what we theorized.  Twisting the world to create an eventual favourable outcome.  Twice however, his abilities twisted beyond their original parameters, creating a vulgar event… a gross twisting of fate rather than the subtler nudges of the past.”  Only now did the woman tear her gaze away from Celena to look at Van, her pale grey eyes boring into his.  There was something so cold and impersonal, so viciously curious that the king almost felt as if he was meeting Shroden’s stare.

“Both instances were when he was losing in battle to you Van Fanel.”  He loathed being looked at like that, those cold eyes peeling him apart layer by layer with little interest in his own discomfort.

Before he realized what exactly he was doing, he’d taken a step back and to his surprise, Celena moved to stand between them, shielding the king from the sorcerer’s stare.

“Interesting.”  The woman mused almost to herself.  “Our readings and reports state that these bursts began once the two of you were together in prolonged proximity.  In fact, we’ve picked up a secondary signature alongside the primary during these events.”

A sort of sick understanding flowed through Van at her words and he could hear Momma’s idly uttered statement echo through his mind.  She’d spoken of souls synchronising, untapped potential and how in ancient times, others would have sought to keep them apart, to stunt their blossoming abilities. 

Dilandau radiated pure destructive power, it surrounded him, rolled off him in palpable waves seeking a fuse… and then along came Van with a spark.

They were idiots.  Insanely lucky idiots who somehow had avoided absolute catastrophe without even realizing it.

“Ever since the holocaust in Basram,” She continued, wholly unaware of Van’s building horror.  “These… flare ups have grown well beyond our abilities to calculate.”

Alright, so they hadn’t managed to avoid catastrophe, but that had been self defense!

“We can only guess as to what sort of calamity has befallen Freid, though we registered a rather impressive spike of fate particle activity and can only assume the worst.  Surely you both agree that this must be harnessed and controlled, if not for the safety of Captain Albatou, then for the safety of the rest of Gaea.”

“NO!”  Celena snarled, her sword instantly back at the madoushi’s throat, her eyes blazing with a mix of terror and fury.  “I will not allow you to drug or torture him.  I don’t care if it’s for the good of Gaea or any other sort of crap.  He was willing to die in Freid, a cup of drugged water within easy reach, rather than sip from it.”

“I’m not going to let you hurt him!”  Van shot back, his voice mingling with Celena’s as they spoke over each other.  “We’ll find some distant land if need be, away from everyone!  He’s been through enough, we both have!”

“Everyone settle down now!”  Allen stepped forward, his voice ringing with a sense of authority that no one could deny.  “No one is drugging anyone!”  He shot a pointed look at Geetha, warning her to stay quiet before she got her throat slit.  After just having gotten his little sister back, there was no way he was going to just sit there and watch her become a murderer. 

Honestly, the knight was shocked at how quickly the situation had degenerated, even more so at how quickly Van had joined in.  He’d expected better from the young king, but it was growing increasingly clear that there were a great many changes to his friend than he was aware of, and none of them seemed to be for the better.  Even now, the normally quiet and stalwart teen was one step away from snarling like a rabid animal.  His wings were flared out violently and the sword in his hand looked all too ready to be driven into the body of an unarmed woman.  Sorcerer or not, this was beyond the pale!

“This is hardly the time or place to discuss such things.”  The knight pressed onwards, refusing to give ground now that he had everyone’s attention.  “I swear upon my honour as a knight and as a man that this sorcerer shall cause no harm to anyone on this ship.  We are your prisoners however and expect to be treated with honour King Fanel.”  He loathed bringing titles into this, but the farce had gone on long enough and it was time to remind Van that he was more than just a wayward teen with a sword to wave around.  “We are unarmed and in your custody.  It speaks ill of you to treat the least among us so badly.”

The words were a slap in the face to Van and his expression went from fierce to shocked and horrified in the blink of an eye.  Looking down at his sword, he seemed to fully grasp the vileness of his actions and quickly sheathed the weapon, shooting Allen a guilty look. 

While one homicidal teen was now thoroughly chastised into civilized behaviour, it seemed that this was not quite the case with the other and it sickened Allen to see his beautiful and precious little sister standing there, sword in hand as if she’d been born to it.

“He’s right.”  Celena stated, though she didn’t remove her weapon from its threatening position.  “They’re our prisoners.  Let’s throw them in the cells.”

“We aren’t locking them up.”  Van murmured, unable to meet Allen’s accusing glare as the knight no doubt blamed him for his sister’s less than womanly behaviour.  “I don’t even know where the cells are, and even if I did, I wouldn’t put them there.”  He quickly added, positive that Celena likely remembered their location courtesy of Dilandau’s memories. 

“There are plenty of empty rooms available.”

“Why should we give a damn Madoushi freedom?  Why should we trust that two faced monster when we both know what she wants to do to us!  To me!”  Celena spat at Van, hurt and betrayal warring with rage in her voice.  Rather than respond in kind, the king gently reached out a hand and placed it over hers, pressing her arms down so the weapon no longer threatened the sorcerer.

“Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves.”  He replied calmly, offering her a faint smile.  “I refused to give Dilandau that chance at first and I regret it with every fiber of my being.  This time I won’t repeat the same mistakes.  That kid… your Sun wanted us to stop, he pulled you out of wherever those monks had sent you.  I don’t know how much you realize that means to Dilandau.  He thought he’d lost you forever.” 

The rage began to melt from Celena’s eyes, leaving room for the deeply buried fear to begin to raise its ugly head.  Rather than pull away, Van continued to hold her hand, pretending not to notice the minute trembling he felt.

“Allen is right.  We need to talk about this, we need to trust each other.  Mostly, we need to get out of this freezing hangar.  Personally, I would suggest the mess hall.  Your body has barely eaten more than a few bites of jerky in days.”

“We have no reason to trust them.”  She murmured softly, the words intended only for his ears and while it buoyed Van’s spirits to know that out of everyone in the room, Celena chose to confide in him, it hurt to know that hadn’t been her brother.

“Trust in those you have no reason to trust.  That’s what Hitomi said.  So let’s give it a try.”

“I don’t trust Hitomi.  She wants me dead.”

“She doesn’t want anyone dead.”  Van was quick to reply, always ready to defend his friend’s honour.  “I don’t think she even knows how to want anyone dead.  Even Dilandau at his worst didn’t merit that.  Hitomi wants to help us.”

“Help you maybe.  How am I to know that this isn’t some big plan of hers to tear us apart again?”  As much as Van wanted to simply assure her that there was nothing to fear, he knew that both she and Dilandau had very valid reasons for their continued mistrust.  Instead of uttering empty words, he took a moment to think before speaking.

“We have no way of knowing that.”  He said at last.  “All I know is that Hitomi is the sort of person who always looks for the best in people no matter what.  She was the one to encourage me to work with Dilandau, to try to understand him as more than an enemy and look at him as a person.  She might not like him at all, but she’d never intentionally hurt him, or as a result, you.”

“You trusted Chid with his life.  Look what that got us.”  It was a low and painful blow, causing Van to wince in very real pain at her words, but he refused to surrender.

“We have so few people we can trust Celena.”  This time those wide blue eyes met his and he could see her fear, her uncertainty.  She’d experienced nothing but pain from this world, her innocent childhood memories of warmth and safety were little more than long faded shadows.  Still, she’d stepped forward when asked, willing to face it all to protect her twin.  Van couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrified she must be right now, and he was staggered at the level of trust being given to him.

“You, me, Dilandau… we can’t take on the whole world and you know deep down inside that we can’t just step away and let it all crumble.  We can do something to stop it.  I must do this, I need to do it.  It’s part of who I am, and no matter how much Dilandau bitches about hating everyone and wanting them all to die, I think he wants to save them too.”

“He would only want to just so he could hold it over all their heads later.”  She mumbled softly, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly despite herself.  “You’re both idiots.  You realize this right?”

“Yeah, I realize that.  The two of you remind me of it constantly.”

“I want our children back.”  She stated, steel returning to her voice as she twisted her hand in his, now gripping it rather tightly.  “Our children, our soldiers.  All of them.  I will not be surrounded by enemies while my family is Fate knows where.  If you don’t have them back when Dilandau wakes up, he’s going to raise every level of hell you can think of.” 

Of that, Van had no doubt.  While he knew that they’d somehow escaped on a leviship of their own, he could only hope that whatever fortune surrounded all of them that they were on their way here.  Hopefully Ignis and Irma had inherited enough of their gifts to track them through the skies because deep down inside, he desperately missed them too.  Even the stupid dragon.

Doing his best to gently pry his hand out of Celena’s surprisingly strong grip, Van turned to face Allen and the rest of their “prisoners.”

“We won’t lock you in cells but that doesn’t make you free to move around aboard this ship.  You will be allowed access to your assigned rooms and the lavatory facilities.  That’s all.  If either of us catch you outside of those locations, we will consider it to be an escape and treat it accordingly. Allen, I’m relying on your honour to ensure that this is enforced.”

Even as the knight nodded his head, he noticed a few of the leviship crew members smirking slightly at how ignorant and trusting he sounded.  Apparently, Dilandau’s lesson with the previous pilot hadn’t stuck as well as they’d hoped.

“This is for your own protection.”  He continued smoothly.  “You’ll quickly notice a rather large number of corpses scattered throughout the ship.”  That seemed to get everyone’s attention quickly enough and Van couldn’t help but wonder just how superstitious the zaibachi people were.  “We’ve caught and killed a doppelganger hunting the hallways, but we have no way of knowing if it was alone.”

Allen had the good sense to blanche, as did the sorcerer woman.  The rest of the assembled seemed to run the gauntlet of skeptically amused, to downright terrified.  It seemed that even in zaibach, the shapeshifters were more creatures of legend than anything, at least to the general populace.

“Doppelgangers don’t exist!”  One of the men shouted, by the looks of him, he was just a rank and file crewman and of little note.  Rather than argue, Van simply smiled and rested his hand on his sword, tapping the pommel casually with his fingertips.

“Tell that to the corpses.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heee, Dilandau broke Allen's nose. snicker. Yeah, Celena hasn't had the best role models lately and likely has some anger issues that need to be dealt with. It was fun writing a scene where Allen had utterly lost all control over the situation, the poor boy. It's never fun to be granted your hearts desire, only to have it slap you in the face.  
> More importantly, now Van has people around him who are sane and possess a strong moral compass. How will he manage to justify his and Dilandau's actions when he now has level headed people around to be properly horrified at their choices. Granted, he likely doesn't care about the opinions of a madoushi.  
> For those wondering, yeah, Dilandau totally headbutted Allen in the face. Poor guy.
> 
> Next Chapter: a few more answers, more problems and Allen gets an ulcer.


	24. Indecent Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen tries to regain control over the situation... with less than stellar results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm not sure what happened there. I uploaded the chapter then went out axe throwing (an awesome sport btw) and suddenly it looks like it didn't post. Strange. Ok, well, second time's the charm?  
> Anyway, it's been a crazy month. I had to rush across country to attend my grandmother's funeral, got a date for my surgery (halloween yeah!) broke up with my girlfriend and generally have been running around like a nut. On the up side, finally got this damn chapter done!  
> We're closing in on the end of the book 2 so things are going to heat up fast! Hope you're all still enjoying reading it because I am still loving writing it!

               “You seem to have no shortage of corpses here.”  Allen couldn’t quite help but remark dryly as he stepped cautiously over yet another sprawled out figure, doing his best to not notice the desiccated features and wide-open mouth.  He’d heard of the state of Plaktu’s body back during the war and these were far too eerily similar to be ignored.

               “We weren’t lying about the doppelganger.”  Van replied over his shoulder, sounding remarkably nonchalant about the ordeal.  “We were going to try to interrogate it, but… someone got a little too worked up about the whole thing.”  He shot Celena a somewhat accusatory glare, only to be answered with a shrug and surprisingly throaty chuckle.

               “Blame Dilandau, he never was the patient sort, especially when there’s a chance to kill something.”  Ugh, did they have to sound so comfortable with her alter ego’s less savoury personality traits?  Allen was all too aware of the boy’s bloodthirsty nature, but he couldn’t wrap his head around Celena’s calm acceptance of it.  She was a noble Astorian woman for Jeture’s sake!

               “This… this ship is cursed.”  One of the crewmen murmured nervously, not helping everyone’s collective nerves in the least as they passed another pair of corpses, these ones piled on top of each other, as if casually discarded by an uncaring hand.

Up ahead, Celena snickered loudly, obviously hearing his statement and elbowing Van in the side before poking playfully at his wings. 

“Hear that pigeon?  You’re cursing the place.”  The king, rather than retaliating, simply rolled his eyes in vague amusement.  It was more than a little disconcerting to see the two of them acting so familiar with each other, especially given how he’d last seen Van and Dilandau interact back on the Crusade. 

               The very idea of anyone being so close to his sibling… his little sister, rankled the knight, bringing up every protective instinct in his body and it was a struggle not to lunge forward and pull the young couple apart.

               “You’re growling.”  Sibille murmured softly in his ear.  “That’s hardly knightly behaviour.”

               “Well it’s hardly kingly behaviour for him to be so casually speaking to my sister.”  He couldn’t help but shoot back through between clenched teeth.

               “About that….”  Regis cut in from behind them, giving the pair up ahead somewhat nervous looks and doing is best to keep a low profile.  “I am so far beyond confused… How can she and Dilandau be the same person?  I mean… She’s a girl… clearly, she’s a girl, but… Dilandau isn’t.  Dallet made it quite clear that Dilandau was a man, he griped about it often enough in his letters.”

               “Regis, I swear on Destiny itself that if I have to explain the differences between a boy and a girl to you…”

               “You know what I mean Sibille.”  The young lord shot back neatly.  “How is that even possible?  They’re two separate people… but… not?”

               “Ask your precious mentor.”  Perhaps there was a tad too much volume in that response because both Celena and Van paused in their banter to glance over at them.

               “Is there a problem?”  Yeah, he really didn’t like how confident and comfortable Van sounded as he walked too close to his sister’s side, and since when did he flaunt his wings like that?  The young draconian had always taken great pains to keep them hidden from sight, but Celena was clearly familiar and comfortable with them, which meant that Dilandau likely had been as well.  Allen loathed the feeling of being so off balance and there seemed to be little hint of the surprises dropping off anytime soon.

               “Did the doppelganger kill everyone aboard?”  Sibille asked, shooting the rest of them a look which clearly demanded that they shut the hell up or risk her wrath.

               At least her question gave Van a moment’s pause and he glanced down at the corpse strewn floor as if only now registering their existence.

               “No, I don’t believe so.  I think the Basram bomb caused most of the deaths, or at least injured the crew badly enough that the doppelganger hidden aboard found them to be easy prey.  The bodies on the bridge all have bad burns wherever there’s exposed skin and several of them look like they died instantly… the rest…”  He gave a slight shudder and looked away from the bodies in question.  “Dilandau would want them to have proper burials.  They died at their posts after all and that should be honoured.”

               “Agreed.”  Regis spoke up, staring at the corpses with horrified fascination despite his best efforts to hold onto his failing mask of indifference.   He’d seen cadavers before, any self respecting madoushi apprentice would have, but there was a vast difference between the clinically laid out bodies in labs and these twisted fallen souls.  Having been kept carefully sheltered from the worst of the war and most of its brutal aftermath, the young lord was by far the most innocent of them all.

               “Brigitte, I want the crew on cremation detail.”  He ordered, barely aware of the woman who stiffened slightly as her name was called.  “Five hour details, work out the rotation as you see fit, but I want these bodies seen to as quickly and respectfully as possible.”

               “Of course, my Lord.”  She stated, nodding her head crisply, offering no argument towards her new assignment seeing as it would get her away from the “cursed draconian.”

               From where she walked at the front of the group with Van, Celena couldn’t quite keep from raising an eyebrow in interest, impressed that with a few simple words, the youth had managed to neatly get around their orders to keep everyone confined to their rooms.  His men would now move about with relative impunity and there was little their captors could say about it without spitting in the face of the sacrifice of the zaibachi soldiers.  What made it worse was that Van himself had created the opening ripe for exploitation.  While she couldn’t blame the other teenager for taking advantage of it, it was still impressive how quickly he’d moved.

               Judging by the look on Van’s face, he’d realized his misstep and was kicking himself over it, though thankfully didn’t draw any attention to it by attempting to rescind the statement.  Best to let their enemies believe that they were simply being respectful to the fallen.  In the meantime, she had to ensure that Van got some rest.  He was just as exhausted mentally and physically as Dilandau, something which didn’t bode well for either of them.

               “So, you both really are alone on this floating tomb, Albatou.”  Sibille murmured with somewhat grudging respect in her voice.   “I had a feeling you were bluffing.”

Before anyone could say anything, Celena had spun around, the movement bringing her nose to nose with the older woman.

“My name,” She snarled in challenge, “Is Lady Celena Encia Schezar.”  Van reached out a hand to try to gently pull her back from the warrior woman, but she shrugged him off as if he was little more than an annoying insect.  “Dilandau Albatou and I might share a body, but as explained, we are two wholly different people.  While you might have a casual relationship with him, WE are not friends.  Do not make that mistake again because I will not be so forgiving in the future.” 

Allen looked appalled at the outburst, Van heaved a soft sigh, keeping his hands ready in case Celena drew her sword.  Sibille merely stared at the thin, frail looking girl with the fierce eyes, likely sizing her up for the kill.  Slowly, a narrow smile pulled at the woman’s lips and she nodded her head in respect before turning to Allen.

“I like her.”  She stated.  “More than I like you.”  The knight refrained from either commenting or rising to the bait.  All he cared about was his sister and her strange reactions to everything.  She’d always been so gentle and kind, perhaps a little headstrong and overly curious.  The memory of his sister was the utter opposite of the reality standing in front of him now.  This Celena radiated hostility and pain.  She was bleeding beneath the confident exterior she projected, and he had no idea how to fix her.

“Stop looking at her like that.”  Sibille murmured softly in his ear as Celena turned away from them, resuming her stalk towards what he assumed was the mess hall.  “Honestly, for a noble, you’re terrible at keeping your thoughts off your face.  Might as well scream them to the damn sky like the idiot you are.”

“Do you have a point to make?”  There was perhaps a tad too much of an edge to his voice, but at this point, his nerves were shot, his face was in agony and he knew that he looked even worse than he felt.  No doubt the harridan was laughing behind that sneer.

“Both of them are barely holding it together.”  The woman stated after a short period of silence.  “I won’t pretend to understand how the hell that brat of a brother of yours is also your sister, but I can tell you without a doubt that it won’t take more than a misunderstood look for her to attack.  The same goes for your precious little hero king as well.”

He wanted to make some snide insult at her observational skills but chose to be the better man and bite his tongue.  Instead, he resumed watching the two teenagers up ahead, noting how their steps mirrored each other and how the two seemed to lean just slightly towards each other.  It was subtle, easily missed if you didn’t know either of the youths in question, but Van had always valued his personal space and Celena…After all she’d been through, he was amazed she was letting anyone near her.

It wasn’t the easy closeness of lovers being shared between them.  Instead, it brought to mind two feral dogs in hostile territory.  They were caught perpetually between fight and flight, ready to burst into deadly motion at the slightest out of place sound.  There was even a sense of wariness between the two of them, as if they’d simply struck a temporary truce rather than the close comradery one might expect between a pair whose lives had depended on each other for nearly two colours. 

Sibille was right, in fact this was most likely why she’d been so quick to surrender.  Any resistance would have been interpreted as a direct threat and the fact that they were travelling with a sorcerer had only made it all worse.  Allen had no doubt that they were listening to every word said, following every movement, just waiting for the sound of drawn steel or the sudden scuff of a foot on the floor

“I’m open to suggestions then.”  It hurt to admit but seeing as how he was currently sporting a broken nose and his beloved sister had basically ripped his heart out and stamped it beneath her armoured clad foot, he felt as if he was out of ideas.  This had been one long unending nightmare and it only seemed to get worse for him.  Jeture, how much more did he have to lose?

“Give them space.”  She murmured after a moment of thought.  “They’ve been tortured, that much is obvious.  While they might have escaped with their skin intact, their minds might not have fared quite so well. 

“Don’t crowd them and destinies sake, don’t push them.  You might think you know them both, but things have changed since you last saw them.  Feel them out, learn who they are before making assumptions and you just might escape this with your head intact.”  It was by far the longest civilized conversation he’d ever had with her and while he was impressed with her insight, he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I thought you wanted Van and I dead.”  He couldn’t help but asking after a rather long and pensive silence, broken only by the nervous murmuring of their erstwhile crew.   “You’re not usually so helpful.”

“Fuck you, you silk wearing slattern.”  It was sad that the insult actually made him feel a little better.  Clearly madness was contagious.  “Killing you now or later won’t make a lick of difference to my son.  There’s far more going on here than we realized, and I want to know what it is before I find myself burying my other spawnling.”

“The spawnling is grateful.”  Regis murmured softly from behind them.  “Though I would suggest being quiet as we’re at the mess hall.” 

As if he’d heard the comment, Van paused and turned around, looking past Allen and his compatriots to the crew, his eyes narrowing.  The knight couldn’t help but notice the slight smile playing about the king’s lips as he noticed how they cringed beneath his gaze, utterly intimidated by being so close to a “cursed draconian”.

“You lot.”  Van ordered in a tone which left no room for argument.  “I wish to speak to Allen alone.  Begin gathering the bodies for proper disposal.”  It was surprising hearing such an imperious order being issued by the normally quiet and unassuming king, but next to him, Celena seemed to smile slightly in approval.  “Stay away from the bridge and away from key sections of the ship.  If you enter them, I’ll know and will not be pleased with such a breach in honour.”  For added effect, he gave his wings a slight stretch, reminding them all that he likely possessed abilities far beyond the human norm.

After seeing the smoke rising from Godashim and seeing how cautious their superiors were around this creature of darkest legend, the crew were all too eager to believe the worst.  Every single one of them paled in fear at the threat.  No time was wasted in scrambling away from the king and in moments, the group of them stood alone in the hallway, all but two of them shocked speechless by what they’d just witnessed.

“Do you want me to leave as well?”  Geetha finally asked, caution colouring her voice as she studied both Van and Celena.  Her question was met with two sets of narrowed eyes and a heightened sense of tension.  No doubt the two of them had been doing their best to pretend she didn’t exist.

“No.”  Van snarled softly, his tone lacking any sort of human warmth.  “I want you where I can see you.”  Despite the distinct lack of welcome, the sorcerer meekly bowed her head in acquiescence, content to be as unobtrusive as possible. 

It was with no small amount of trepidation that they followed the duo into the mess hall and that only seemed to grow when they saw the corpses.  Like the others, they were dried out husks of humanity, empty sockets staring blindly up at the ceiling, their mouths gaping unnaturally wide.  One held a knife in their hands and looked as if they’d been trying to protect the other.  Judging by their clothes, they’d been part of the kitchen staff.

Celena strode past them as if she either didn’t see them or simply couldn’t care less.  Van at least paused for a moment to acknowledge their existence, but there wasn’t any compassion in his eyes.  Instead, he seemed to be assessing how much of a threat they posed and if the weapon might be of some use.  In moments, he too walked past them, unmoved by their fate.

Without words, the two seemed to choose a table just past the center of the room.  It was a strategic position, allowing them room to move and fight if attacked, kept everyone in their field of vision and most importantly, kept the doors in easy sight.

“I’m going to take stock of what’s edible.”  Celena stated, giving the king a weighted look.  “Dilandau pretty much just focussed on finding the wine and it’s given me a stomach ache.  If they give you any problems, kill them.”  She didn’t bother waiting for a reply, preferring instead to draw her sword and head into the kitchens, leaving Van to handle the explanations.

More than a few sets of eyes regarded her naked blade with trepidation and curiosity though none dared to speak up until she’d passed through the door and disappeared into the rooms beyond.

“You weren’t joking about the threat of more doppelgangers were you.”  Regis murmured, fixing Van with a speculative look.  Rather than bother to answer, Van instead fixed his attention on Allen who had wasted no time in leaning forward on the table and shooting Van an imploring stare, desperate to finally get some answers out of his friend.  He watched as various emotions slid across the normally tightly controlled knight’s face as the man warred with the hundreds of questions and accusations no doubt filling his mind.

“You’ve changed.”  He finally settled on the rather all-encompassing statement, studying the young king’s reactions.  “What can you tell us Van?  What happened?”  It seemed that Allen had finally regained his legendary poise and Van felt a grim smile tug at his lips.  It was a fragile shell and he saw through it easily.  Despite his easy words, the knight’s fingers gripped the tabletop tightly and there was a tension in his body which was usually absent. 

“Tell me what you intend to do with Dilandau.” Van asked instead of replying to the question.  “No lies, no evasions.  What are your intentions.”  Narrowed eyes regarded all of them and something almost insanely protective glittered in their depths, leaving no room to doubt that failure to answer would lead to a messy demise.

Taken aback by the abruptness of the question, Allen forced himself to hold that suspicious glare.  Any hesitation would leave room for doubt and Sibille was right, Van was a hairs breadth away from attacking.

“I want to save him.  I want to be there for him, the way I wasn’t able to in the past.”  He answered honestly, the words cutting deeply as he remembered Celena’s harsh words to him only a short while ago.  “I failed them, and both have suffered for it.”

“And how will you save him Allen?”  Van snarled out the words, slapping his palms down on the table, he leaned forward, wings fanning out aggressively.  “Will you try to tear him and Celena apart the way those monks did?  Will you sacrifice him to save her?  How much is your sister worth to you?”

“My sister is worth the world to me!”  Allen couldn’t keep from yelling back, refusing to back down now that victory was so close at hand.  “As is my brother!  They are both my family, the only family I have, and I will not give up on either one of them.  I will endure anything the gods throw at me to see them safe and happy.”

“Then why the sorcerer?”  The dark king spat back, sparing Geetha a withering glare.  “Do you know what they did to him?   How can you stand next to her after what they put him through!?”

“Because if I don’t, I run the risk of losing both of my siblings.”  It was a struggle to keep his voice calm and level, to mask the horror filling his heart at the state his young friend was in.  he reminded Allen of that torn and broken boy at the dawn of the war, standing there in the ruins of Fort Castillo, demanding to be allowed to race into the jaws of death.

“We’ve been tracking you both through energy surges.”  He continued, choosing his words carefully.  “Palas, the Basram black labs, the Nostramo river on both sides… Freid, then at the site of the Dragonslayer’s graves.  Did I miss any of note?”  Azure blue eyes narrowed as he watched Van grow noticeably paler, though oddly enough, his cheeks grew rather dark with blush.  “I might not understand the science behind what they’re doing, but I can put information together to draw a reasonable conclusion.  These surges aren’t safe, and they are not controlled.  We need to find a way to control them or stop them altogether if Dilandau and Celena are ever to live normal lives.”

“We’ll never lives normal lives.”  Van murmured, dropping his gaze for the first time since their arrival on the fortress.  “We wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves if we did.”  For a moment, Allen caught a brief glimpse of his friend beneath the layers of pain, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and those unnerving wings rose up once more as Van’s lips pulled back from his teeth. 

“It doesn’t matter.  It will never happen.  Basram is ready for their second great war.”  He all but hissed, his wings mantled as he spoke.  The feel of those alien appendages drawing closer made Allen’s skin crawl, but he refused to back away despite how the hair on his arms stood on end. 

“Shroden is worse that any of us ever thought.  Anything _She_ told you doesn’t begin to do it justice, and he had us in his power for a whole colour Allen!”  Van’s skin began to take on an ashen hue as he spoke, the disgust dripping from his every word.  It made Allen sick to imagine what the two of them must have endured, but Van chose that moment to look back up, locking eyes with Allen and smiling grimly.

“They want to create more soldiers like Dilandau was.  Insane killers capable of bending the fates of the battle around them.  Do you know how they did it Allen?  They kept us in electrified cages, fed us drugged food and water.  They tortured us, experimented on us.  Cut us open and took what they wanted over and over again before forcing us to walk back to our cells. Every day they did this.  Every day I stood on the threshold of death, listening to Dilandau screaming in pain as they tore those energies out of him.”

Sweat began to bead along his brow and Van’s eyes grew distant as he lost himself to those hellish memories.

“The things they did… to us, to those children…” 

His voice trailed off as his breathing became shallow and panicked.  Those terrible wings snapped closed, encircling him almost protectively and all Allen could do was watch helplessly as his friend battled internal demons. 

Allen had argued over and over with Gaddes about the contents of the Zaibach experiments, Adelphos had hinted at unnamed horrors best left in the darkness of the past and now… now the knight began to wonder if perhaps he was better off not knowing what they’d endured in their absence.  He’d seen Van live through all manner of pain and suffering, but until now, he’d never seen the king of Fanelia so broken.

For a moment, Allen thought that Van was going to be physically sick and despite his every instinct screaming at him to keep his distance, he took a step forward.  The motion seemed to shock the youth out of whatever memory was plaguing him and those dark eyes of his hardened, glinting dangerously as he glared at Geetha, a barely heard growl issuing from his lips as if he were some sort of beast kin.

“They recreated the experiments you bastards put Dilandau through.  Day after day they twisted those children into … into things!  The lucky ones died quickly!  The unlucky… I can only pray to the gods of Gaea that we released them from their suffering.”  He ground the words out through gritted teeth, his expression murderous. 

“Every waking moment was a nightmare and even our sleep didn’t grant us any peace!  All we had were each other to hold madness at bay.  He kept me alive, made me walk back to our cell when I wanted to just lay down and die.  He cleaned my wounds, never let me lose hope and never stopped fighting.  Even when it was utterly pointless, he fought them… until they made him stop.” 

A single tear fell from Van’s eyes and he gripped the table tightly with his hands.  His jaw was clenched so tightly that they could hear the muscles creak in warning.

“He trusted me with his life.  He gave me his sword and surrendered at Freid because I asked him to.  They were my allies!  Chid was my ally… but he betrayed us!  They all did!  We only have each other now and you’ve taken him away!  I need him Allen!  We need each other!”

He wanted to throw up, to scream in rage and horror at what his friend, his sibling had endured.  For a long moment, he simply placed a hand over his mouth, doing his best to keep the contents of his stomach down and his breathing under control.  Only when he felt that he could speak through the red haze which coloured his vision did he dare remove it, taking the time to enunciate each word carefully.

“I need them as well Van.  Both of them are more precious to me than anything else on the face of Gaea.”  He looked up at the trembling king, offering him a tremulous smile, doing his best to radiate the honest intent behind his words.  “We’ve been many things King Van Slanzer Fanel, but we’ve never been enemies.  Let me help you.  Your fight is mine.”  That faint smile grew a little wider as he saw the first minute cracks behind those dark smoldering eyes. “The two of you can’t win this war alone and it doesn’t take Hitomi to see that our destinies are intertwined.”

Van couldn’t help but wince slightly at hearing his earlier words parroted back at him and the cracks in his rage widened, allowing it to drain away.  Taking a deep breath, the king looked down at the black feather hanging from his neck next to the glimmering pendant and smiled gently.  It seemed that the paranoid violence wasn’t all Dilandau’s fault as he wasn’t here to feed it through their bond.  There were deep scars on his soul from this nightmare, and if wasn’t careful, they’d swallow him whole.

Trust those you have no reason to trust.  He’d been the one to remind Celena of Hitomi’s words and it was likely time that he himself dared to believe them.  Still, saying it, even just to himself was easier than putting it into action.  Hadn’t he trusted Chid?  Look how that had turned out.

“Betray us,” He warned coldly, “And I will show you exactly what we did to the Basram labs.”  Allen wasn’t the only one to grow paler at those words, though everyone in the room nodded their heads solemnly.  “As for… helping Dilandau…”  The word was spat out, dripping with venom.  “If that sorcerer so much as looks at him in a way I don’t like, I’ll tear her apart and give her skin to Dilandau as a gift.”  The statement wasn’t a bluff, and no one doubted him for a moment.  “But you’re right, we don’t know how to control the bursts yet.  It’s my hope that a little peace and rest will help in that regard.  We’ve been fighting for survival since we were kidnapped.”

“I know you don’t believe it, but you’re among allies now.”  Allen finally gave into temptation and reached out a hand to tentatively rest if on Van’s shoulder.  The king glanced down at the touch, his eyes narrowing slightly.  Though he didn’t shake the hand off, his muscles were as tense as coiled springs beneath the knight’s gloved hand.

“When you said that you don’t know how to control these bursts of …power.”  Sibille spoke up, interrupting the moment and causing Van to jerk himself back from Allen, his eyes guarded once more.  “How dangerous are they?”

“To our allies?  So far, everyone seems to have found the experiences pleasant enough.”  Dark brown eyes met pale jade and the way the light hit them, Allen could almost see crimson highlights in those dark depths.  “To our enemies?  It depends on their intentions.”  Pausing for a moment, Van glanced over at the sorcerer.  “In Basram, people were turned inside out, some were aged until they were nothing but brittle bones.  They were melded into walls, machines… each other.  It was like being trapped in a nightmare of our own making, and they were all still alive when it happened.

“In Freid… men burned alive from within, their bodies tore themselves apart-“

“Freid is an ally!”  Allen interrupted, eyes widening in dread as he felt his stomach clench rather alarmingly.  “Chid… is Chid alright?”  The feeling grew worse when Van refused to meet his eyes, choosing instead to stare at the tabletop, his hand clutching at the feather hanging around his neck.

“Chid… he’s alive.”

“What did you do to him?”  The pure ice in Allen’s tone made Van look up, his breath caught in his throat as he saw the raw fury behind the knight’s eyes.  His expression reminded him so much of Dilandau that he almost smiled despite himself.  It was only the realization that it wasn’t his hot-tempered lover glaring murderously at him, radiating all of the protective instincts of a mother dragon with her brood, it was Allen. 

“We came to him peacefully!”  Van snapped back defensively, refusing to take the blame for the unfortunate series of events.  “Dilandau surrendered his sword without a fight!  We had injured with us.  Women, children… people in dire need of medical attention.  They threw them in a cell!  They threw Dilandau in the dungeons and me in some tower prison.  I begged to join the others, but they wouldn’t let me see them.  They starved him Allen!  He was sick and exhausted, and they wouldn’t even give him water!  When he finally lost consciousness, they drugged him, they… they performed a ritual to destroy him and leave only Celena!” 

Again, his wings flared open and the pendant flickered ominously with an inner light.

“They tore us apart.”  Celena’s voice was soft and monotone, but it still seemed to echo through the room, causing everyone to spin around and stare at her in shock.  Leaning against the door, she held a box of rations, some jars filled with a jelly like substance and a few bottles of liquid.  Her already pale skin had a greyish cast to it and there were dark circles beneath her eyes which seemed to heighten their haunted quality as she stared at all of them, daring them to speak up.

“I’ve never felt pain like that before.  It was as if they were tearing me apart cell by cell, ripping away something vital inside me.  He took the brunt of it, trying to protect me no matter how much it hurt, but I could hear him screaming in agony, feel him clawing at me, trying to hold us together.  Not even the Madoushi experiments hurt like that… I still feel raw inside, like there’s some huge bleeding wound that will never heal… and it’s worse because I know that it’s him I’m feeling.

“They tore him away from me, cast him against the gates of the Paths of the Dead so hard that they opened.  Then I was alone.  Alone in a body I didn’t want, in a mind empty of everything but myself and when I opened my eyes, I could see the men…”  She shuddered in horror, clutching the box tightly against herself as if it might shield her from her memories.  “They grinned down at me like I was nothing but a prize, a thing.  The Madoushi looked at me the same way… that monster in the stables did too.” 

Her eyes hardened, and she stalked towards the table and slammed the box of food down hard enough to jostle to contents alarmingly.

“Chid broke our trust.  He knowingly allowed a prisoner to be tortured and murdered.  He held innocent people as hostage and betrayed a friend who’d come to him in his time of need.  They weren’t trying to help me or Van, they only wanted to prove their power over Dilandau, to drag him down and shatter him in their revenge. 

“You don’t kick a dragon and then get angry at it for biting you.  Chid’s alive, which is more than he deserves for his actions.” 

“He’s a child!”  Allen slammed his hand down on the tabletop, making those poor jars jump once more.

“HE’S A KING!”  Celena roared back at him, not cowed in the least.  “He is responsible for his actions, his choices, and those of his people!  He chose to do nothing while Dilandau screamed in agony, when he was tied down with burning ropes and drugged out of his mind.  He watched as we screamed and begged and struggled for every last moment of life and he did NOTHING!  So, don’t you dare lecture me or blame Dilandau for striking out in agony.  He lives and that was more than he was willing to allow us.”

Allen reeled back as if struck, his face filled with agony as he heard her words and the rage behind them.  Chid would never do that!  He was a kind and good child!  Sweet, innocent... and had been face to face with his father’s murderer, a man who had caused so much suffering to his people now brought low.  He was a hurt and lonely child, finally given a chance to strike back.

Closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath, Allen remembered his own youth, his own impotent rage at the world.  Would he have been any better if presented with the source of his suffering?  He knew the answer to that already, so how could he so steadfastly deny that his own flesh and blood would behave any differently?

“He apologised afterwards.”  Van spoke softly into the ensuing silence.  “He let us go, saying that he understood what he’d done wrong and begging our forgiveness.  I can’t forgive him for what he tried to take away from me and I doubt we’ll ever be friends again, but he’s alive Allen, and much wiser for it.”

“Still want to work with us big brother?”  Celena didn’t make much of an effort to keep the challenge out of her voice.  The mocking lilt to it was pure Dilandau and sent chills down Van’s spine, but he still found himself taking a step closer to her, making it clear which side he was on. 

The two of them stared at the others, weighing their reactions carefully.

Unsurprisingly, Regis was the first to step forward, bowing deeply to them both and holding a hand over his heart.

“My allegiance is to my captain and I’ll serve him for as long as he’ll have me.”  He stated boldly, lifting his head up enough to meet and hold their gazes.  “I believe the two of you hold the keys to our future and the salvation of Gaea.  My sword, my heart and my soul are yours.”

Van still didn’t trust the guy and he really didn’t like how he continued to stare at Celena with worshipful eyes.  It hadn’t escaped his notice that the young lord had called the sorcerer “master” or how he’d come to be so close to Allen’s side yet so far from Astoria.  This whole mess had taught him not to be blindly trusting, and this too clever teen put him on edge.

Next to step forward, so to speak was Sibille.  Giving them both a brusque nod of her head, she flashed Celena a thin smile.

“They did all of that and the scrawny brat left more than a single stone standing?  He’s gotten soft.”  Allowing herself a faint chuckle, the woman picked up the crate and rested it against her hip.  “I’m going to distribute this among the crew.  Fed minions are less annoying than hungry ones.  Regis, stop fawning and help me.  You’ve never looked twice at a pair of tits so don’t go starting now.  I’ve no interest in becoming a grandmother.”

Blushing rather brilliantly, the strawberry haired teen quickly followed in her wake as she strode out of the room with more cool confidence than Van had ever felt in his life.

That left the sorcerer and Allen behind, something neither seemed overly comfortable with.  Still, it hardly came as a surprise when the green haired woman bowed deeply, her eyes downcast.

“My life is in his hands, that hasn’t changed.” She murmured gently.  “I will give whatever aid and advice you wish in order to help you gain control over these bursts.”  Her grey gaze flicked up nervously to them both before sliding away once more.  “I know neither of you wish it, but I fear that these episodes will only grow worse with time, so I urge you to take my offer into consideration.  Until then, I will study what I can in order to be of service when the time comes.” 

Like the others, she gave a slight bow then left, her long black cloak trailing on the floor behind her like a dark shadow.

“Van…”  Allen licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and took a deep bracing breath, struggling to keep the storm of emotions in check.  “Please don’t hate Chid.  Remember the rage you felt when you first saw Dilandau.  You wanted nothing more than to kill him even though he’d just acted to save your life.  Chid… he-”

“I’ve already made peace with his actions, at least as much as I can.”  Van replied, cutting him off neatly.  Though his tone was terse, it lacked the vitriol of his previous rant.  “I understand how he felt, but that doesn’t excuse him.  All I can do it hope that age and experience grant him wisdom.  Until then, I have no intention of ever setting foot on Freid soil again.”  As he spoke, his wings folded up behind him and Celena pulled out a chair, sitting down on it as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I’d sort of planned to eat that food.”  She murmured under her breath, utterly unconcerned with the emotional heart to heart the men were having around her.

“After all we’d been through, I’d finally gotten Dilandau to stop trying to kill himself and this stunt tossed him right back into a suicidal mess.”  Allen flinched at Van’s words, glancing over at Celena guiltily.

“Dammit, I was really craving that pickled beet jam.”

“I don’t even know if he’s recovered or if I’m going to have to fight him on this again.”

“It really looked good too.”

“Celena, I’m sure that there’s more in the storeroom if you look.”  Van cut into her musings, flashing her a look of mild exasperation, only to be greeted with a slightly annoyed pout.

“But I wanted that one.”

“…Of course you did.”  There was no hiding how the king rolled his eyes, nor his tone of exasperation. 

Oddly, Allen felt a wave of relief flow through him at the more relaxed interactions between the two.  There was still a tension to them, but it was nothing like before, making him wonder if they’d just needed to yell a little and get it out of their system, or if it had been the proximity of the sorcerer.  Either way, it felt like a weight was lifting from his shoulders.

“If you want, I’ll get some for you.”  He found himself saying before he realized that his mouth was moving, as were his feet.  After missing out on so much of Celena’s life, he really wanted to be able to do something for her, even if it was as petty as fetching her another treat.  It also didn’t hurt that it conveniently cut short a rather uncomfortable topic that Allen felt he was in no way equipped to navigate without setting off another bout of temper.

“Actually Allen… a word?”  Van winced at how tight his voice sounded, overtly betraying his nervousness to everyone in the room.  Celena raised an eyebrow in interest, a faint smile tugging at her lips though she remained blessedly silent.  Allen on the other hand paused in mid step and looked over his shoulder.  There was a new wariness that hadn’t been there before this nightmare had torn their lives apart.  A tiny niggling sense of guilt haunted him for a fraction of a second before being ruthlessly crushed.  He’d done what he’d had to in order to survive and keep his loved one’s safe.  There was no room for regret.

“You may have several if that’s your wish.”  The knight smiled at him hesitantly, eager to set things right once more, even if he privately dreaded what might be said next.  Rather than comfort the youth, it only served to remind him of just how cold and alone he felt at this moment.

Neither man made any attempt to sit, both sensed the thick tension still filling the room.  Sighing loudly, Celena kicked her feet up onto the table and pulled a stick of dried vegetable ration out of some inner pocket in her uniform jacket.  Frowning at her utter lack of delicacy and manners, Allen opened his mouth to reprimand her, prompting Van to speak first if he wanted to cut off the inevitable fight.

“I need to speak to you about Dilandau… and about me.”  He blurted out with his usual lack of social grace, successfully diverting the knight’s attention back onto him.

“Must we?”  Allen murmured more to himself than anyone, suddenly looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.  Squaring his shoulders, Van nodded his head once sharply and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable explosion.  This likely would have gone better without the earlier death threats, capture and talk of maiming Chid, but as much as he’d rather wait for a better time, he’d learned that there was never going to be such a thing.  There would always be some sort of emergency.

“Oh just spit it out.”  Celena mumbled around her meal.  “He already knows you two are screwing.  It’s written all over his face.”

“CELENA!”  Both men gasped out, equally horrified at her bluntness.  Rather than act at all abashed, the young woman grinned widely at them both and took another bite.  “S’true.”  She continued, speaking around her food in a way that even Dilandau would have been appalled over.  “Your face is getting redder by the minute Van, and Allen can’t meet your eyes.  It doesn’t take an idiot to figure it out.”

“Celena… that is no reason to ignore your manners.  Do remember to eat like a noblewoman and not some ruffian.”  Allen muttered as he rubbed his temples, wishing that his life wasn’t as strange as it was.  Jeture had answered his prayers and he was thankful beyond words for that.  Even if Celena was nothing like how he’d remembered her, he would smile and give his praises to the gods of Gaea for their gift.

“Hmph.”  She grunted softly and took another bite of the rations.  “Why?  I’m not staying.  The instant Dilandau pulls himself together enough to run things, I’m tossing him in the cockpit as he so delightfully put it.  I figure that I’ll live it up a little and experience some of the things he did before I go.  Hey Van, can you take me flying?  I want to dive off the edge of the fortress and feel the wind tear at my hair!”

“You are NOT jumping off the side of the ship!”

“Sure Celena, just let us finish going over this first, then I’ll take you flying.”  Van neatly overruled Allen, flashing him a somewhat apologetic smile that did nothing to soothe the knight’s nerves.  “How long until he wakes up?”  He couldn’t help but ask, unable to keep the edge of eagerness out of his voice.  With the dragonslayer gone, he felt hollow, as if something vital was missing from his soul and without being aware of it, he gently stroked the shining black feather between his fingers.

“Not long.  Really, he should stay asleep for a few days after everything he’s been through, but he won’t.  Promise me that you’ll keep him for racing off into danger the first chance he gets?”  Those wide blue eyes of hers fixed on Van’s, utterly ignoring Allen in favour of her alter ego’s lover.  “I swear he has the survival instinct of a rabid lemming.”  While Van was rather sure that Dilandau wouldn’t appreciate that description at all, he couldn’t help but smile and nod his head in agreement before turning back to face Allen, feather still clutched tenderly in his hand.

“You had something to ask me Van?”  Really, Allen should have just taken the chance the distraction had offered and run out of the room, but much like facing down an oncoming storm, he found that he couldn’t turn away.

“Yeah… er… about what Celena said… I wanted you to know… I mean…”  Van paused and took a deep bracing breath, wondering how this was so hard to say to Allen.  This was so much easier to say in Freid where it didn’t really matter what they thought.  Here… here Allen had power over their relationship.  Whether Dilandau acknowledged it or not, the man was still the head of his house as well as being Van’s closest friend.  His word carried a great deal of weight regarding their relationship.

Nervously running a hand through his still mussed up hair, he held the feather against his chest and did his best to center himself.  He’d always hated talking about his feelings to anyone.  Not even Hitomi had managed to break through the walls around his heart the way Dilandau had… granted, the annoying albino had simply beaten the damn walls down rather than wait patiently for Van to step beyond them.

He could picture him there at his side, cocky and ready to move against any opposition that dared to stand against them with a smirk on his face and acerbic comment on his tongue.  _Just spit it out._   He’d sneer at Van, mocking his hesitation with his usual ruthlessness.  _Nothing worth taking is without risk.  Am I not worth the risk Van?_ There would be smoldering heat in his eyes as he asked that teasing question, both already knowing the answer.

“Dilandau and I are together.”  He blurted out, feeling his cheeks flush a brilliant crimson with the heat of his embarrassment.  It certainly didn’t help that Allen’s golden brows rose up and his normally gentle mouth thinned with tension.  “I mean… together as in lovers.  I love him.  I love Dilandau.”  He plowed onwards, unable to stop the words from coming now that he’d admitted it to the elder Schezar.  “You and Hitomi were right and I had to see past the war and get to know him as a person.  I … sure he’s not a good person, in fact he’s pretty horrible at times, but I understand him now.  I don’t know if that makes me a bad person too, but I need him Allen.  I need him in my life.

“What I mean to say is that I, King Van Slanzer Fanel ask you, Sir Allen Leon Schezar for your permission to court Dilandau Albatou!”  In hindsight, he likely shouldn’t have yelled out the last bit, but it had torn its way out of him like a declaration of war, leaving him breathing hard, limbs trembling as he stared at his shocked friend, waiting for the axe to fall.  Unsure when he’d risen to his feet, wings spread wide in challenge, Van couldn’t bring himself to so much as budge, waiting to hear the verdict.

For a long moment, everyone was silent.  Allen’s face was a perfect mask, betraying nothing of the emotions likely churning around inside him. 

“Van…”  He knew that tone of voice, recognized the denial from the stiff way the knight held himself and the cool guarded gaze of his eyes.  “I know that the two of you are… intimate.  While I appreciate the fact that you have helped my brother in a time of need, I must impress upon you that this… relationship is impossible.”

“This union is both socially and politically irresponsible and you should know that better than anyone.”  He continued, cutting Van off neatly just as the king opened his mouth to argue.  “He burned your country to ash and was responsible for not only several attempts on your life, but the slaughter of hundreds of people.

“While I find it commendable that you’ve put this behind you, you are still a king and subject to the whims of your people.  Can you forsake them for this infatuation?  After all he’s done to them?  I can guarantee you that they will not be anywhere near as accepting as you are.

“Do you remember what I said to you back when we first met?  When we stood amongst the flames of Fort Castillo?  Fanelia would always exist so long as it had its king and its people.  Do not cast them aside so lightly Van, they’re just as much a part of your country as you are.

“Even if by some miracle, they forgave him for his crimes, he can’t give you an heir.  Your duty is to your throne first, your heart second.  Every royal knows this Van.  It’s the price of your crown, and neither of our countries allows anyone, especially a royal to wed a member of their own gender.  It would be suicide to the lineage.”

“Then I’ll change the laws Allen!”  Van shot back, his hands balling into fists as he struggled to hold onto his temper.  “This isn’t an infatuation.  I need him the same way I need air in my lungs and blood in my veins.”

“This isn’t healthy Van.  Two colours ago, you two were seconds away from drawing steel on each other at any given moment.  Now you’re telling me that you’re willing to share your crown with him?  You’re willing to forgive him for Balgus?  For Duke Freid?  For the hundreds he’s left dead on the battlefield?  This isn’t love Van, it’s addiction and I-”

He was cut off by a dagger slamming down into the tabletop, burying itself deeply in the thin metal.  Both men spun around to stare at Celena who was now standing and glaring at the knight with narrowed eyes.

“I’ve got something to say, and you’re going to stay quiet and listen Allen.”  She stated, her voice brooking no argument as she stared down the knight with every ounce of her formidable will.  “As the resident expert on Dilandau.  I believe that I should make a few things clear, because you’re obviously not seeing what’s right in front of your nose.”  She didn’t wait for a reply from either of them.  Instead, she continued speaking with the utter confidence that none would dare interrupt her, in fact, she seemed to be almost daring them to risk her wrath.

“Dilandau is barely holding it together.  You have no idea just how close to the edge he is and if you force Van to cast him aside, you will lose him forever.  All of you.  Over and over, he’s lost every single person he’s ever dared to care about right when he needed them most and this is the very last time he’s ever going to let anyone in.  You have no right to strip him of that final shred of comfort and if you do, I swear by every bit of twisted fate that made us, I will stand back and let him tear this world apart.

“Van and Dilandau have found a way to move beyond their past and forge a life together.  I’ve seen what their love can create Allen, and I’ve seen what happens to those who dare to separate them.  If even the Dragonslayers can welcome this union, how can you stand against it?” 

She sneered at the knight in challenge, then with a sharp jerk, pulled the knife from the table.

“As for the laws not supporting it.  Van is a king.  He can change the damn laws if he see’s fit.  Just because you weren’t brave enough to fight for your one true love gives you no right to stand in the way of others Allen.  You know damn well that Princess Marlene would be horrified at the idea of you standing in the way of destiny.”

“H… how do you know about Marlene?”  Allen gasped, taking a step back in his shock.  Now it was Celena’s turn to smile a cold, cruel smile as she leaned forward into his personal space.

“I know everything Dilandau knows.  Everything Allen.  I watched his life through his eyes.  Every little dirty detail.” 

Van had never seen Allen look so utterly shell shocked.  The knight’s normally pale skin turned as pale as Dilandau’s, with a very clear greenish cast and he swallowed visibly several times, struggling for words, but Celana was in no mood for mercy.

“Van is asking you for your permission because he’s polite and doing his best to honour noble tradition, but you really have no say in what happens between them.  Dilandau is a legal adult in both Astoria and Zaibach.  House Schezar means nothing to him, so casting him out won’t bother him.  As for the rest, Dilandau has already provided Van with an heir.  Two in fact and before you get your panties in a bunch, they’re already married, so really, all Van is seeking is your blessing, not your permission.” 

Turning away from Allen, she flashed the now gaping Van a wide smile and sat back down in her chair to finish her food.

“You can take it from here I believe.”

Neither man had words.  They both stared at her in shocked horror, one struggling to grasp just how far out of control the situation had gotten, while the other really wished that this had all been presented in an easier to swallow manner.  It took several long seconds before either found their voice, but it was Van who spoke first, doing his best to not sound at all apologetic.

“It’s true Allen.  Everything she said was true.  We didn’t plan on any of it, but it all happened.”

“You’re married.”  The knight’s voice was deadpan.

“Yes…we didn’t realize what we were doing… we performed a draconian bonding.  Our fates are one now.”  He clutched the feather as he spoke, drawing strength from it even though he couldn’t feel his lover through it.  It was still a part of him, linked to his essence and so long as Van held it, he knew they’d never truly be apart.

“You…. You got him pregnant?!”  There was no hiding the king’s wince at the accusation behind the question.  Ugh, why did everyone immediately think that?  First Hitomi and now Allen?  It was likely a good thing that Dilandau didn’t hear it.  He’d break the knight’s nose a second time that day.

“Not like that.  Shroden used his experiments to create soldiers using our combined essence.  My blood and tissues, his energy and essence.  We couldn’t stop him, and it nearly killed us every time he did it, but two of the subjects survived.”  Van closed his eyes, wishing he didn’t see those nightmarish labs behind his lids, that he couldn’t still hear the screams of the children as they were torn apart and put back together again into monsters.

“Dilandau tried to kill them all before they were made, to prevent their suffering.  I didn’t know what he was doing at the time.  I wouldn’t have understood the act of mercy even if I had.  One of them was spared.  A fanelian boy who’d recognized me.  He’d fought the guards… after all he’d been through, he’d still fought them, but there’d been nothing I could do for him.

“Dilandau… Dilandau spared him, made him perfect so that he’d survive the cull.  He did it for me to thank me for saving him earlier that day… for protecting him on the ship… for being there when no one else was.  I…I think he could see how shattered I was and he knew what we’d be waking up to.  He did it to give me hope that something good might come out of this.  Even though he still hated me, he risked everything to protect this life and he made me promise to keep it safe as well.

“His name is Ignis, and yes, he’s my son.”  Opening his eyes, Van looked at Allen in open challenge, daring the knight to refute his claim.  “He has a sister, Irma.  Dilandau hadn’t meant to spare her but somehow, despite the odds against her, she survived the procedure.  She was the only one out of all those children to survive under her own power, but because she wasn’t perfect like Ignis, Shroden used her to experiment further and the bastard mixed her with a dragon.  She’s still our daughter, still our blood and I will kill anyone who stands against her.  Before you say anything Allen, know that Dilandau is even more protective of them than I am.

“They’re my true born heirs, so it really doesn’t matter if my people approve of my marriage or not.  Dilandau has already fulfilled his obligations as the Prince Consort of Fanelia.”

Allen stared at him for a long moment, jaw hanging open in utter shock as he struggled to digest everything he’d been told.  It was simply too much, too utterly unbelievable to be anything but the truth.

“Your councillors will never stand for this Van.”

“He’s of noble blood, he’s given me two heirs and through him, it creates an alliance with both Astoria and Zaibach.”

“Neither country holds him in high regard at this time.”  Allen warned, still grasping at using reason to end this face before it went any further.  Rather than backing down, Van smiled at him victoriously.

“Astoria might not now, but war is on the horizon and we both know that Dilandau will be an indispensable asset.  In fact, he’s already got a few schemes in the works that he’ll tell you about once he wakes up.  As for Zaibach… the leaders might condemn him, but the military and the common folk idolize him.  He’s a force to be reckoned with and they know it.  That’s why that sorcerer is here, and the others.  They can’t stand to lose the last Fate Alteration Soldier.”

“I’m only trying to do what’s best for you.”  The knight pressed, still not willing to give up, though Van could see his resistance crumbling as the man realized that he had no real power behind him.

“Then let us decide what’s best for ourselves.  Believe in us Allen, trust in us and support us.  That’s all we’re asking.”  As he spoke the words, he risked a glance over at Celena and saw her watching him with a particularly weighted stare.  It didn’t take much to see why.  He’d just asked Allen to do what Dilandau had asked of himself only a few hours ago.  Trust him to make the right choice, to allow him his opinion in deciding his own fate.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Van gave her a slight nod, letting her know that he understood now what the dragonslayer had been asking of him.  If he was lucky, somewhere in the depths of her mind, Dilandau saw and recognized the gesture for what it was.

“A proper courting.”  Allen finally grumbled out, each word dragged out of him against his better judgement.  “You’ve both already made a mockery of tradition and that ends now.  Jeture’s sake, you’re a king Van, and he’s a nobleman.  There’s rules!”

“You’re not making them sleep apart.”  Celena cut in pointedly.  “They’ll have panic attacks.  If you’re lucky, they’ll just keep you awake with their screaming.  If you’re not lucky… you won’t wake up at all.”  Allen looked like he was about to argue, then paused and looked at Van, truly looked at him.  The king held his gaze unflinchingly, but he knew that Allen wasn’t challenging him, he was studying him, weighing him against his memories of a simpler and more naïve Van from two colours ago.  Judging by the way his mouth tightened, he saw the truth behind Celena’s words.

“It was that bad?”

“I’ve almost lost him to madness or suicide more times than I can count Allen.”  Van’s words were little more than a whisper and he clutched the feather to his heart, wishing he could feel the answering beat of his lover’s heart.  “I’ve almost lost him to something so much worse than both because people thought they knew what was best for us.  If you separate us, I can tell you right now it will be ugly.  We’ll panic, and we’ll tear through anything between us before we even realize what’s happening.  I don’t want to hurt anyone Allen, please believe me, but I won’t let him out of my sight if I can help it.”

“You will be chaperoned at all times.”  Allen replied, his voice firm but there was a hint of that former warmth returning to it as he realized that there was far more going on between the two teens than simple infatuation.  Dilandau might be bonded to Van, but it appeared that it wasn’t a one-sided relationship.  More importantly, he couldn’t ignore the protective manner in which the king fought for his brother.  “As a king, I’m sure that you’re aware of proper courting behaviour expected from someone of your rank.”  The man smiled, believing that he’d finally found a way to gain the upper hand with the two unruly teens.  While he had no doubt that Dilandau would thumb his nose at every rule and ultimatum the elder Schezar demanded, Van wouldn’t wish to see the value of his “bride” diminished in the eyes of his people.  “No being alone together in a closed room.  No intimate physical contact until a true wedding ceremony is arranged and you will be expected to pay a proper bride price.”

Both Van and Celena snorted rather inelegantly at that suggestion,

“Oh I am sooo watching when you tell Dilandau that you’re putting a price on his pretty little ass.  I’m not sure which of you he’s going to murder first.”  Celena grinned.

“It was Allen’s idea!”

“I will NOT have you dishonour my brother by eloping with him.  You’re a king, you owe it to your people to give them a proper Prince Consort, seeing as how you’re so intent on elevating him to such a status despite all logic.”

“Then I want Dilandau present and permitted to join in the negotiations.”  Van wasn’t about to back down.  It was a risk including the dragonslayer in such delicate discussions, what with his rampant narcissism.  Leaving him out of them however would have even more dire results. 

“This is highly irregular.  He is the… bride in this situation after all.”

“The entire situation is highly irregular.  Besides, Diandau is a huge proponent of equal rights, so we’d best get used to it.”

“So, is it all settled?”  Celena yawned widely, making her utter lack of interest obvious to all.  “Because while this is all dreadfully fascinating, I want to go and dive off the edge of the fortress while I still can.  You guys always get to have all the crazy fun and I want to feel what a freefall is like.”  Her announcement was proceeded by the screech of her chair being pushed back as she stood up, popping the last of her ration stick in her mouth.

“You are NOT jumping off the side of the ship!”  Allen snapped, reaching out to grab onto her, only to have her twist nimbly out of the way with a wicked grin.

“Oh yes I am dear brother.  I’ve watched Dilandau have a thousand adventures over the years.  It’s long past time that I had one myself.  So, I’m going to jump, and Van is going to keep me from hitting the ground in a spectacular fashion.  I trust him to catch me and keep me safe, don’t you?”  The challenge was clear in her gaze and before the knight could voice any sort of proper objection, she slipped out the door, racing down the labyrinthine hallways.

Allen made another desperate grab for her before turning to the young king, his eyes wide with dread, utterly unable to anticipate just what lengths his sister might go to, and just how much danger she was in.

“Van!”

“Let her do this Allen.”  Van replied calmly, already moving towards the door in a much more sedate manner.  “She’s earned it.”  The look his friend shot him was heartbreaking and Van knew that he was likely imagining all sorts of ways this could end badly for his sister.

“You just finished telling me that Dilandau might be suicidal!”

“Dilandau, not Celena.”  Van corrected him quickly, heading into the hallway and turning right, somehow knowing that this was the path she’d taken.  “She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

“This isn’t about strength Van!”  The knight shot back, following closely at his heels, looking more distressed by the moment when they failed to catch up to Celena.  “This is about my little sister who I just got back leaping to her death!”  All Van could do was roll his eyes as he hopped over a corpse which was still sprawled across the hallway floor.  Allen struggled to keep from saying something about how casually death was being treated by the two youngest members of their group, but at this moment, Van really couldn’t care less.

“I was right, Schezar’s are too melodramatic for their own good.  She’s hardly going to leap to her death.”

“That’s hard to believe when you’re making no effort to stop her!”

“Why would I do that?  I’m going to catch her, just like she asked.”  He knew that Allen didn’t understand.  To him, Celena would always be the victim.  A poor sweet girl swept up by events so much larger than herself.  He’d never see the fierce young woman every bit as strong as Dilandau.  Van owed her this moment of pleasure, an experience just for her that she could savour when she stepped back and allowed the control of her body to be taken away once more. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he opened the door and found her standing up on the railing of the catwalk, the high-altitude winds whipping at her hair and the skirt of her armour.  Hearing them, she turned just enough to flash them a brilliant grin, her eyes shining in the afternoon light.  In this moment, she was utterly beautiful and unbroken, drinking in the glorious tapestry of the world spread out beneath them.

“I’ve always loved heights.”  She laughed, throwing her arms open wide, as if to embrace the sky itself.  “He wasn’t the only one who wanted to touch the sun and hold it in his hands.”  Reaching up towards that brilliant ball of fire, she stretched out her fingers, trying to cup it in her palms.  “Things are always so much more beautiful when we can’t touch them.  We build them up in our minds, romanticise them, yearn after them with all of our hearts, forgetting just how precious the things we can touch actually are.”  Her eyes fixed on Van for a moment, radiant with challenge.  “Help me get closer to the sun than he ever could?  I want to touch the infinite.” 

Before Van could say anything, she leaned forward and dove off the railing into the emptiness below them.  Allen screamed loudly, diving for his beloved sister even as Van spread his wings, leaping out after her.

The wind tugged at his hair and feathers, making his wings ache deliciously as he beat at the air twice before tucking them in tightly against his back, diving after the fragile figure plummeting below him.  Even now, he could hear her laughter being torn from her lungs.  Her arms were still thrown wide, ready to embrace the world below without a hint of fear.

The drag of her arms slowed her down just enough for him to catch up with her, matching their dives perfectly but making no move to catch her yet.

“You both are crazy!”  He yelled over the howling of the wind, unsure if she could even hear him.  Rather than replying, she held out a hand to him, her laughter stolen by the wind.  Her lips moved and while he couldn’t hear her words, he understood the look she shot him perfectly.

_“Will you catch me?”_   It wasn’t a question so much as a challenge.  Schezar dramatics.  They’d be the death of him.

As gently as he could, he caught her wrist and pulled her close, fighting against the pressure of the wind to do so.  His wings flexed minutely, adjusting for the additional weight and regaining his balance as he slowed their dive.  Strong slender arms wrapped around him as the details of the ground below grew ever sharper, the air easier to breathe.

Finally, he stretched his wings out fully, cupping the air beneath them, using his momentum to shoot back up into the sky, spiralling upwards with the grace of an eagle.

It was much harder to climb than it was to dive, especially with the extra weight, but he revelled in every moment, pleased to be the one to share this with Celena, to hear her laugh without restraint as she clung to him.  Her eyes were wide with absolute awe as she watched the world once again spiral away beneath them.  With childlike innocence, she tried to touch the clouds, marvelling at how her hands passed easily through their gossamer depths, trying and failing to catch them in her grasp.

“Higher!”  She commanded, and for once Van didn’t hesitate to obey.

They dove and soared for nearly half an hour until both were panting from their exertions and every feather in Van’s wings ached.  He’d never flown with extra weight for more than a few moments and despite Celena’s slight form, he knew that his body was going to make this felt for the next day or so. 

The fortress was little more than a dark spot amongst the clouds in the distance and the sun was beginning its descent.  Though they’d tried to touch it several times, the cold and thin air had continued to drive them back to the warmer skies far below.  Despite their failure, both teens laughed in delight, thrilling at their attempts, happy to pretend that their next attempt would yield victory.

“We should head back.”  Van murmured as they soared gently above the clouds.  “Allen is likely having a nervous breakdown.”  That and his wings felt like they were about to fall off, but that didn’t sound nearly as impressive.  Much like with Dilandau, he wasn’t about to admit to any weakness if he could avoid it.

“He’s going to have to learn to live without me.”  She replied, her voice hard and cold, perhaps a little too much so.  “You and Dilandau are married after all, he goes where you go, and me along with him.”

“That still sounds strange to hear… married.”  Van savoured the word, rolling it around in his mouth, exploring the taste.  “At least, we will be if I can get His Paleness to admit it.”

“He’s scared.”  That was pretty much the last thing he’d expected to hear, and he shifted Celena slightly in his arms in order to look at her directly, wondering if she was simply teasing him.  The look in her eyes was one of perfect seriousness, which only deepened his confusion.

“Scared?  The guy who thinks it’s fun to punch a dragon in the face is scared of being married to me?”

“Everyone he’s admitted to loving dies or rejects him Van.”  She replied, her voice soft but heavy with the weight of many painful memories.  “Every one of them.  It leaves a mark on a person.  Add in the fear that in taking this step, he’s betraying his fallen men, all the baggage Shroden packed into his head and the fact that he really has no clue what a marriage entails.  It’s hardly surprising really.”

“I thought it was just the whole idea of not sleeping with anyone else that has him balking.”  Van replied, shocked by her words and trying to cover it up with levity.  “Gaddes mentioned that he’s not the most… faithful of lovers.”

“Oh?  And when would he have been taught about fidelity?”  Celena snapped at him, her eyes narrowing dangerously.  “When those madoushi bastards were raping him?  When they were passing him out as some sort of reward?  Do you have any idea how old he was before he even realized that he had a say in who he bedded?  He’s never been taught that sex was a precious gift, that it’s a show of commitment and devotion.  For him, it’s just been a fun physical activity to enjoy, no different emotionally than a good fight.  Why shouldn’t he indulge when the mood hits him?” 

That stung more than he was expecting, and he felt a deep churning of dread in his guts, causing him to swallow nervously several times before speaking, not even sure if he wanted an honest answer.

“So… with me… it didn’t mean anything?  It wasn’t any different than hopping in his guymelef and torching a small town?”

“Don’t be an idiot.”  She scoffed, favouring him with an all too familiar sneer.  “You can feel him through that stupid bond you two have, right?  Do you think you two would have that if you were nothing more than a way to pass the time?  He’s crazy about you and as devoted to you as he was to his men… maybe even more so by now.  I doubt any of them could have pulled him back from madness the way you did.”

“Then why the hesitation?”

“War is all he knows Van.  That’s all he’s been allowed to know.  Things like marriage, love and family had no place in his world, that’s why he didn’t even recognize what he had with Miguel.  He could understand that there was something different with him, but he didn’t have the words or experience to place it.  Now he does, but it’s a whole new world you’re asking him to dive into.  He’ll do it of course.”  There was no hesitation in her voice and she shared a confident smile with the king.  “Bond or no bond, he’d shatter the world into pieces if you told him to.  He’d even endure a nice family visit with Allen… though he’d likely make you both regret it.  Dilandau doesn’t do anything by halves and that especially goes for his feelings.  You might have noticed that.”

“Yeah… he’s sort of an all or nothing sort of guy.”

“Exactly, and right now, he’s worried that if he says yes, if he dives into this alien world he’s not mentally equipped to comprehend, you’re going to abandon him, just like all the others.  More importantly, he knows that once he accepts the idea of family into his heart, it will weaken him.”

“But… it doesn’t!  It makes you stronger!”

“I know that, you know that, sweet fate, even he knows that.  He’s just being an idiot like usual.”  The exaggerated eyeroll likely wasn’t needed, but it did bring a slight smile to his lips.  It was sort of nice knowing that he had an ally in this.  Opening his mouth, he meant to say just that, but then a chill tore through him which had nothing to do with the altitude and everything to do with the pendulum appearing in the center of his mind, swinging madly.

“Van?”  Celena asked her hand squeezing his arm as she stared into suddenly vacant eyes.  “Van, what’s happening?”  The pendant hanging from his neck began glowing softly as something seemed to light up in its heart and she felt an answering tug deep inside her chest. 

Closing her eyes, Celena took a deep breath, readying herself for the expected agony of Dilandau waking up.  The tugging grew stronger, spreading through her body like a cramp as her muscles began to spasm and twist. 

She’d been hoping to have a little more time in the physical world.  It had been so long, and she felt safe with Van, more than she did with anyone else.   Maybe she should have talked to Allen, let him know that she didn’t hate him despite the pain between them.  She definitely knew that she should have punched that damn madoushi at least one more time in the face.

The pain leeched into her bones and she struggled to force herself to relax and let it wash over her.  Flashes of dark wings unfurling flickered in the depths of her mind, of a terrible aching hunger, of rage and power just seeking a target to sink its teeth into.  Beneath that all though was confusion, as if she was only now beginning to stir from a dream.  He wasn’t ready to wake up, she knew that deep down inside, but she’d promised him that she wouldn’t fight him anymore for the body.  There was too much going on, too much at stake.  They couldn’t risk a war inside their own mind on top of everything else.

Dread twisted itself up in her guts as she realized that if he was trying to pull himself out of the healing sleep he’d been pushed into, then the situation was desperate.  There was no way to tell if his all too brief time had settled his overtaxed mind and soul or if it had been able to heal the wounds from Freid.  All she could do was hope and pray that Van would keep the worst at bay. 

For his part, Van didn’t hear her over the sound of the pendulum swinging in urgent circles over and over.  He wasn’t aware of her sudden agonized tension or the way her body seemed to shift and twist beneath her leather armour.  All of his focus was on the growing sense of urgency filling his mind as the pendulum spun faster and faster.

Turning with it, Van tried to pinpoint the source of the danger and gasped loudly when he finally saw it.  Eyes snapping open, he found himself staring at two dark shapes heading in their direction.  Long plumes of smoke billowed out of the lead shape and he could tell that it was losing altitude rapidly.

The mental pendulum strained towards the approaching leviships and that sense of dread grew with every breath.

“That’s the Bhaagi!”  He gasped out, not even needing to see it clearly to recognize the lead ship.  He could feel it deep down in his soul with the same surety as he knew that Ignis and Irma were aboard.  “They’re in trouble!”

Celena twisted sharply out of his arms and in his shock, he lost his grip on her.  Gravity did the rest, hurtling her towards the unforgiving earth before Van could properly react.  For a moment, all he could do was stare dumbly at her falling form, noticing distantly that rather than trying to grab for his outstretched arms, she seemed instead to be struggling with her armour jacket, yanking at the clasps holding it closed.

Even as he closed his wings, preparing the dive after her, she slipped her arms out of the leather, letting it flap uselessly behind her, attached only by the thick leather sword belt.  Did she look paler?  More muscular?  He only had a moment to abstractly ponder this before two huge black wings tore their way out of her back in a spray of iridescent feathers.

The bond surged through him, nearly stalling his flight as his mind was suddenly filled with a wildfire of burning rage.  Energy crackled through the air between them, dancing along both of their wings and Van embraced it.  He’d done nothing when Dilandau had needed him, and he’d very nearly lost him for it.  May all the gods of Gaea damn him for eternity if he was going to sit back a second time when his children were in danger!

“You save our family!”  Dilandau spun around to face him, drawing his daggers in a single fluid motion.  His crimson eyes shone with energist light and he could see faint glowing lines shining beneath the skin on his forehead.  “Call your damned armour and help the Bhaagi!”  His voice was barely audible over the roar of blood in Van’s ears.  Dimly, he wondered which one of them was more infuriated by the situation, not that it truly mattered.  Their emotions flowed freely through their bond, feeding off of each other, doubling as it was shared until it sparked along their wings with crimson light.  “I’m going to tear those bastards apart for daring to threaten what’s ours!”

“You can’t take out an entire ship on your own!”  Van shot back, ready to attack right alongside his partner, the demand for blood overpowering all other thoughts.   He could still hear the screams of the children, the prisoners, of themselves.  Knives cut into his skin, burns seared along his skin and that slimy cold dispassionate voice echoed in his ears, detailing their tortures.  If he struck down these enemies, it would be like striking at those who’d truly hurt them!  He had to!

“Who said anything about being alone?”  Dilandau grinned widely, his own bloodthirst radiating off of him in visible waves.  The air around him rippled slightly and fifteen pale figures appeared, surrounding him in neat ranks.  Like their captain, their weapons were already drawn and ready to claim lives.  Though their faces were empty and expressionless, he could feel their hatred and hunger. 

They too longed to strike out at the ones who’d hurt their beloved captain, and this time, they would not be denied.

“This will be an act of war.”  He wasn’t trying to talk Dilandau out of his current path of action.  As far as he was concerned, the first blows had been struck over a colour ago with their capture, and it would only end with the deaths of Shroden, Tseng, and anyone else who dared to stand in their way.

Dilandau grinned even wider at his words.  The marks beneath his skin burning through, becoming that strange stylized eye that the monks had drawn.  It seemed to stare at Van, matching the same shade of the maddened glare below, and Van could feel the raw power bleeding out through that pale flesh.

Dread filled him as he realized that this was exactly what had happened in Freid and the king couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to see the dragonslayer enveloped once more in soul freezing shadows while the hatred burning up inside him took control. 

“Then we’d best make it count.”  The dragonslayer replied.  “No survivors.  Everything on that ship dies today.”  Despite every bit of kindness and mercy in his heart, Van felt himself nodding in agreement.  “Now call your armour.  Only Escaflowne can help the Bhaagi get to the fortress.”  Before Van could say anything else, Dilandau grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close, pressing their lips together in a hard, blistering kiss.

Energy flared and danced around them, sizzled down their spines and arched across their feathers.  All the air was sucked out of Van’s lungs and he forgot to flap for several moments, his mind blank with shock.

“We’re going to be together again Van.”  The dragonslayer stated and there wasn’t a shadow of doubt in his voice.  “Our family will be safe.”  Then, he pushed the king away, his dark wings beating against the air as he dove towards the two ships, a yell of challenge splitting the sky.

For several seconds, all Van could do was watch in awe at that indomitable spirit.  You could kick Dilandau’s teeth in, grind him into the ground and beat him to within an inch of his life, but he was never truly beaten.  He’d always rise back up, sword in hand, ready for another fight.  The king honestly wasn’t sure if this was a good of bad trait to have, but in this moment, it truly was awe inspiring.

Another explosion rocked the wounded leviship in the lead, causing more dark smoke to billow out from the engines and it wobbled dangerously.  No doubt, the people inside were being thrown about like rag dolls, clinging to anything they could for stability and wondering if these were their last few moments of life.

Frowning darkly, Van closed his eyes and opened himself to the link between the two draconians,, allowing the sizzling energy to burn along his nerves, lighting up his entire body and awakening him to a whole new level of awareness.  He could feel the brilliant sun up ahead which he instantly recognized as Dilandau.  It burned with rage, hunger and a wild bloodlust which bordered on madness.  Surrounding that was the icy cold curtain of the dragonslayers, a barrier of death, poised and ready to be launched at their enemies with but a word.

Just beyond that, he felt the twin bright bursts of their children.  Hurt, scared and calling to them.  He could see flashes through their eyes.  The ship on fire, bodies crumpled on the floor of those who’d been knocked out during the first volley.   Kamata roared in fury, maddened by the fear around him and Irma clung to him tightly, holding him still even as she bled from a gash on the side of her head. 

Ignis stood at the wheel of the ship next to Captain Arjun.  The two of them were struggling to hold the ship on course and guide it down as gently as possible, but the ship fought them every step of the way.  It wouldn’t last much longer and if Van didn’t act soon, all would be lost.

With a snarl, Van spun around to face the distant fortress.  Holding out his hand towards it, he focussed his will towards the armour he knew rested within.  As before, so long ago now in Zaibach, he listened to his heartbeat, imagining it synching with the beat of that great machine.  The pendulum spun and flashed in his mind, the apex of each swing matching the twinned heartbeat and gathering up the shared power between himself and Dilandau, he reached. 

He could feel the weight of the mighty armour against his arms and legs, feel the press of the hydraulics as he moved as well as the barely tapped power within its form.  It rose smoothly on sturdy legs and moved, one foot after another towards the entrance of the bay, still open and yawning from their entrance. 

As it dove through the air, huge wings snapped out, catching a thermal, it rose quickly, slicing through clouds and using the momentum given to it by gravity to speed its dive.

Without even opening his eyes, he could feel it approach, and threw out an arm to the side, catching onto the edge of the saddle as the mighty armour blew past him.  The action nearly yanked his arm out of its socket as he twisted neatly into position, grabbing onto the flapping reins with expert familiarity.

Finally opening his eyes, he turned to face the failing ship, not even noticing how the great dragon armour mirrored his movements perfectly.  As one, they let out a mighty roar of defiance and folded their wings, dropping like a stone after the ship.

After hours of catching and dropping Celena, it was child’s play to match the speed and angle of the falling ship, allowing Van to see the full extent of the damage done.  The starboard engines were ruined, and both wings had been shredded.  It looked like explosive damage of some sort.  Whatever it was that had hit the ship had burned the hull even as it had torn it apart.

Moving carefully, he angled the dragon armour above the ship and reached out it’s legs, digging powerful claws into the struts hidden beneath the hull.  He could almost hear Pyle droning on endlessly about the Crusade and leviships in general, explaining how they were put together.  He’d torture the young king for hours during their various wartime retreats with long tirades about wingboxes, spars, struts and the rest of the ship’s anatomy. 

He’d never though it would ever come in handy, but he silently thanked the crewman for the lessons as he dug huge metal claws into the fuselage, grabbing onto one of the spars as close as he could to the wings as the armour was able before carefully stretching out his wings, trying to angle their fall.  If he changed their angle too quickly, it would tear the ship apart beneath him, but not enough and they’d still hit the ground. 

Honestly, this was much easier with Celena than an entire ship, but he braced himself and after a deep bracing breath, bean to carefully flap.  The strain on both the armour and the ship was tremendous and Van grit his teeth as he poured more energy into the machine, urging it onwards despite the risks.  It would be so easy to accidentally tear the ship apart, dooming everyone within, but if he didn’t, they’d all die for sure.  All he could do was keep trying to gain altitude and pray to every god of Gaea who would listen that Dilandau was keeping the enemy ship off his back because he couldn’t risk splitting his attention.

 

“Keep firing on that ship!”  Captain Tirin yelled out somewhat needlessly, his voice echoing across the bridge.  “I want them to be nothing but a stain across the mountainside!”  Those bastards would pay for their cowardly attacks and treachery!  A ship full of zaibach soldiers and Freid rebels would bring accolades to his name, especially in the wake of this latest attack on Godashim.  Reports had even indicated that these were the disgusting wretches who’d attacked Lofan village, leaving the settlement nothing but a burning pyre!  He’d see them dead, then his name would be remembered for generations!

“Sir!”  A frightened yelp from one of the pilots drew the captain out of his dreams of triumph.  Spinning around, preparing to yell at the foolish underling for his cowardice, Tirin frowned, noticing that the man was pointing wildly out the front window.  “The white dragon!”

What?  Nonsense!  There was no way!  It was impossible!

“Sir, we are dangerously close to the southern borders of Fanelia, this could be construed as an act of war.”  His commander cautioned, the man’s tan face growing sallow as he stared at the unmistakeable sight of a huge mechanical dragon stooping onto the wounded ship like a falcon.  Unlike the fleet bird of prey, once it had the ship in it’s talons, it seemed to be straining to gain lift, leaving it’s back exposed.

“We’re already at war with Fanelia!”  Tirin spat, his hand closing about his sword and drawing it dramatically.  “Was their foul king not in league with zaibach!?  Did he not attack a peaceful Basrami village!?  Did he not leave a trail of death and destruction behind him?  We strike now!  We strike true!  PREPARE TO FIRE!”

“Sir! That’s King Fanel!  We can’t fire on him!  We-” The commander was cut off by a solid blow to his face, slamming him back against the console behind him.  While the helmet he wore absorbed the worst of the blow, leaving the captain with a stinging fist, it was still more than enough to stun the man.  “Throw the coward into the brig!  We’ll deal with his mutinous actions later.  Why aren’t you firing gunner?!”

Fury still building with every passing moment at the sheer incompetency of his crew, the captain swept his fierce glare over to the lanky lieutenant sitting in the gunnery chair, desperately pressing buttons as if his life depended on it.

“I’m trying sir!”  He blurted out fearfully.  “The gun ports are…. frozen shut!”  Several more buttons were quickly pressed, then hit in frustration.  “They’re literally frozen!”

“Nonsense!  We’re not nearly high enough for ice to form!  You’re relieved of duty Lieutenant Mengi!”

“Sir!  Look!”  This was the navigator speaking up, pointing out the front window with dread.  He could hear other voices rising in fear and dread as tension quickly filled the bridge.

“We’re doomed!”

“Sweet gods of Gaea!”

“This isn’t possible!”

Cowards and traitors!  How could he be surrounded by such craven weaklings at his moment of victory!?  With a snarl, the captain spun around to stare out the window, ready to have his entire crew jettisoned and kill the demon king himself but the thoughts of victory died instantly as he stared at the huge bird charging the ship.

No… not a bird.  Its great black wings shone in a way no mortal birds did, it also had arms, burning eyes which promised death, and in its hands were two daggers.  They glinted menacingly in the late afternoon sunlight and the captain couldn’t quite seem to pull his eyes away from them.

“It’s… going to ram us?”  He asked softly, unable to comprehend the sheer ludicrousness of the situation.  Surely no mortal creature could survive such an impact.  They were a leviship!

“Sir!! The window!”  One of his men yelled out in horror.  Numbly, the captain watched as frost rime began to creep across the glass, obscuring the shape of the charging draconian.  No… not a draconian.  Such things didn’t exist!  They couldn’t possibly!  It was obviously a bird!  A large suicidal and stupid bird… armed with daggers.

A sharp crack echoed through the bridge, followed by another, then several more.  Tirin could feel the pressure shift as the extremely cold outer edge of the glass met with the warm interior of the cabin.  His heart began to pound against his ribs as doubt began to whisper insidiously in the back corners of his mind.

“Just a bird… it’s just a bird…”  He muttered to himself, taking a slight step back.

The sound of the first dagger slamming into the now brittle glass of the window was almost deafening.  Several men leaped to their feet, scrambling over their consoles to get away from the blade which now hung there, impaled in the center of a spiderweb of cracks.  The second blade further weakened the thick glass, and now they could all hear the eerie whine of high-altitude wind working its way through the tiny gaps, widening them and further destabilizing the window.

Moment’s later, the window exploded, it’s last bit of integrity shattered by the armoured form hurtling through it at high speed.  Curled into a tight ball, vulnerable flesh protected behind armoured boots and vambraces, the figure spun in a graceful roll amidst the flying glass and a storm of glistening black feathers.  Before anyone could wrap their minds around what had happened, there was the flash of steel and the hot spray of blood as the navigator’s head flew clear off his shoulders.

Chaos erupted on the bridge as the crew all seemed to race for the single door leading to the rest of the ship, but even as they reached it, a thick white layer of frost began to creep across it.  Several men pounded against it, trying to beat it down with their fists, only to draw away when they heard the screams echoing through from the other side.  Something was on the ship… in the hallways, and it was slaughtering the crew.

Captain Tirin didn’t know what to do or where to attack.  The wind whipped wildly about the bridge, making his eyes water even as it chilled his skin.  Glass and feathers gave the entire scene a surreal and almost dreamlike quality as he stood there, watching his crew being cut down one after another by the red eyed demon.  Its delighted laughter filled his ears even as the sharp coppery stench of blood and viscera clogged his nose.

“This… this isn’t real.”  He muttered to himself over and over, as if repetition might drive this nightmare away and bring him back to a world which made sense, a reality where he was victorious and strong.

The floor was slick with blood, the screams beyond the door fading.  Distantly, he was aware that he was alone on the bridge now.  Just him and the demon who was slowly stalking towards him.  Its eyes glowed with unholy hunger and blood spray dripped from widespread lips as the thing grinned at him like a shark closing in the kill.

“I should thank you for your foolishness.”  The demon purred, stepping up to him and reaching out with a blood-soaked hand to gently stroke slick crimson fingers along his cheek.  Tirin could feel the warm wetness of his crew’s blood stain his skin, but he couldn’t look away from those glowing twin pits of hell which bore ruthlessly into him.  “So many lives served up for my men and I.  We’ve been waiting for so long you see for a feast such as this… and we’re very … very hungry.”

Captain Tirin barely felt the pain of the sword sliding into his guts, nor the wet rush of his guts being spilled across the floor.  He was already lost in the depths of those terrible eyes, falling, falling into a darkness he couldn’t even begin to contemplate.  When it finally occurred to him that his final moments were upon him, it was far too late to even scream.

 

“Status report.”  Dilandau brushed a few bits of stray glass from his armour and glanced around at the ruins of the bridge.  He toed the ruined corpse of the captain absently, a faint smile edging his lips as he savoured the memory of the man’s terror filled final moments.

_“Everything on this ship is dead sir.”_   Gatti appeared just behind him, standing at attention and radiating the sort of grim satisfaction he always had in life.  Dilandau’s smile grew wider as he turned away from the now boring corpse to survey the ship with more than passing interest.

“Did you make them pay for attacking what is mine?”  He asked idly, wandering over to a computer terminal and studying the readouts.  Not fooled by his calm demeanor for an instant, the dragonslayer gave his head a brusque nod, pale vacant eyes still staring pointedly forward.

_“We shredded their souls sir.  They are nothing now, not even a memory.”_

“Excellent.  Hmph.  Incompetents, they didn’t even get out a distress call before they died.  It’s almost insulting that they dared stand against me.”

_“Pity that they’re now too dead to learn from their lesson sir.”_   Gatti’s voice was perfectly deadpan, though Dilandau paused and glanced over at the specter, familiar with such dry sarcasm from his subordinate.  Turning back to the control panel, the dragonslayer captain began pressing several buttons, a soft chuckle finding its way past his lips.  It was a laugh the lieutenant knew well, and he couldn’t quite resist walking over to look over his leader’s shoulder.

_“You’re setting the ship to self destruct?  Isn’t that a little overdramatic sir?  Even for you?”_

“Shut up Gatti, there’s no such thing as too much drama.  Besides, Explosions!”  This time it was the specter’s turn to look skeptical.  Glancing around for the rest of the team, he saw that they’d wisely chosen not to materialize, leaving him to bear the brunt of their leader’s uncertain temper.

_“With all due respect sir… what with the war brewing, wouldn’t it be wiser to take the ship for yourself?  It’s an armed warship after all.”_

“One would think that that would be a wise course of action.”  Dilandau agreed distractedly, still keying in various systems and setting them to overload one after another.  “But they’d be short sighted idiots.”

_“Would you be so kind as to share your unique wisdom with me sir?”_

“The sarcasm is noted lieutenant.” 

_“Observant as always sir.”_   Sighing heavily, Dilandau paused in his button pushing mayhem and spared the soldier a look of pure annoyance, softened only by lazy malicious humour.  Gatti always had been expert at knowing the safest times to push his buttons and get away with it.

“Firstly, this is very obviously a Basrami ship, and they will be looking for any excuse to declare war on Astoria or Fanelia.  If we’re found with one of their border patrol ships in our hold, we’ll become the guilty party.”

_“You are the guilty party sir.  You did murder them.”_

“Bah, semantics.  But Aston is a coward at heart and he’d be more than happy to sacrifice me if it had even the slightest chance of delaying the inevitable war.  This would give him the perfect excuse.  There’s also the fact that I’m pushing it enough with having the Oreades AND a floating fortress to play with.  I can just picture the coronary he’s going to have when I show up with my new toys.”

_“Planning another one of your games of Let’s see what burns, sir?”_   There was no point in trying to hide the smile which split his face at the memories of past wildfires in major population centers, so he didn’t even try.

“We’ll see how he reacts to all of my surprises.  I do like to keep my options open after all.”

_“Even though you swore yourself to his service?”_

“I also swore to serve Astoria.  The country would be better served with having someone bearing a spine on the throne.”

_“You also swore to uphold the law of Astoria.  Regicide is rather frowned upon.”_

“Ugh, you sound like Van.”  Gatti fixed him with a perfectly neutral glare, not dignifying that remark with a reaction, fully aware that the captain was just toying with him now.

_“While those are all viable reasons, none of those seem likely to hold you back from claiming a new and destructive toy as your own.”_

“Fine.”  Dilandau huffed, turning back to the console and hitting a few more buttons.  Red lights were now flashing in warning and a deep rumble echoed up from the bowels of the ship.  “I have a damn floating fortress packed full of more Alseides than any single country on Gaea.  I don’t need this ship to raze any kingdom I want to ash, so why deal with all of those other points I brought up if I don’t have to?”  Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the dragonslayer still didn’t look convinced.  Gatti knew him far too well to believe any of those logical arguments, no matter how sensible they might seem.

“I can’t fly this stupid ship alright?”  He finally snapped.  “And before you say something snide, it’s NOT due to lack of ability or my current record of crashing every leviship I’ve piloted lately.  This model requires six people working together to pilot and last time I looked, none of you were overly inclined to regain material form.”

_“Some of the citizens on the Bhaagi might have that skill.”_   Gatti pointed out, sounding perhaps just a tad smug over having finally pulled the truth out of his leader.

“Even if there were five other people capable of it, which would be so insanely unprobable that even I couldn’t screw with the chances, we’d still have to find out who can, then get them over here and hope that they understood Basrami controls.  That demon armour can only carry one other adult aside from Van.  It would take too long and if it turned out that they couldn’t translate the systems and controls, we’d all crash.  I’m not risking my people for so little gain.  This ship is more problems than it’s worth and I’m not greedy enough to take the chance.” 

As he spoke, he did what he could to alter the flight path of the ship.  New alarms began to sound, warning of various navigational errors due to the many interlinked systems not computing the new data properly.  Just as he’d warned, one person couldn’t do this.  Stupid Basrami systems, stupid ship and stupid Gatti for making him point out this failing.  Add one more downed leviship to his ever-growing list.  It was a good thing he had wings because at this rate, no one was ever going to let him fly again.

“Besides,” He finally added softly, more to himself than the specter, watching the new failure warnings flash across the various screens.  “Van is focussed on keeping the Bhaagi in the air.  If he lets the ship go, it will crash, killing everyone.  Our focus has to be in getting the ship to the fortress.”

For a long moment, Gatti just stared at Dilandau, shocked that his captain would choose to save lives rather than risking everything for an instrument of death.  He wasn’t sure if he was more proud of his idol, or stunned at this surprisingly mature decision.  Rather than daring to make any sort of comment, he simply bowed deeply, accepting the word of his captain as holy writ.

More buttons were pushed and the sounds of building critical failures filled the ship, creating a rather ominous background rumble.  Normally, Gatti would have cautioned his captain to beat a hasty retreat, but the still living youth looked so happy causing chaos that the specter didn’t have the heart to spoil it… at least not until he noticed that those glorious crimson eyes were glowing brilliantly, and energy was building up in the air around them.

Dilandau was too preoccupied to notice, but the dragonslayer could feel the ever-increasing pull against his spectral body and frowned in concern.

_“Sir…”_

“What is it now?  Why can’t you ever let me blow something up in peace?”   Choosing to ignore the exasperated irritation in the captain’s voice, Gatti instead focussed on remaining visible, something which was growing more and more difficult as the energy built up around them.

_“Sir… what sort of ordinance were they using?”_

“Judging by the damage to the Bhaagi, it looks like small energist bombs, why?”

_“Sir, I believe they’ve become unstable.”_   That certainly got Dilandau’s attention.  His head snapped up and he spun around to look at the dragonslayer, only now seeming to notice the hum of energy building around them and his own bodies reaction to it.  _“Judging by previous exposure to surplus energist energy, I would advise you get as far away from the ship as possible sir.”_  

Before he’d even gotten halfway through that suggestion, Dilandau was already racing for the open window and the yawning sky beyond.  He paused only long enough to scoop up his two daggers before diving out the hole he’d made.  There was no effort made to call his wings, he’d fall far faster than he could fly, and distance was what he needed most.

Gatti kept pace, floating alongside him, keeping a nervous eye on the ship, mentally counting down for the inevitable explosion, hoping that he’d be able to offer some protection to his leader.

“VAN!”  Dilandau focussed on the link between the two of them, hoping that they’d still be able to speak mentally.  “I did a bad thing!  Hang onto the ship, things are about to get a little bumpy!”

_“!?!?”_  It was rather interesting to feel the king’s gobsmacked thoughts and Dilandau couldn’t quite keep from laughing even as he plunged towards the surface of Gaea at terminal velocity.  _“What the hell did you do!?!?”_

As if in answer, the air around them gave a violent lurch as the air pressure dropped for a moment.  Everything was perfectly silent, hanging still in that small eternity before a ball of light and heat tore through the air. 

Dilandau was jostled roughly, it felt as if something had physically slammed into him, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs and stunning him.  If his wings had been out, they’d have likely been shattered by the impact.  Even his armour was hard pressed to protect him from the energy wave that washed over him.

It felt as if he’d been caught in an electric current.  Every nerve lit up and caught fire, his skin crawled as the fine hairs on his body stood on end and a scream of pure wild adulation tore itself from his body.  He was lightning incarnate!  He was a sun!  He was living fire and sweet fate it was glorious!

Spreading his arms out wide, he tried to embrace the blast of energy as it dissipated into the air, drunk on power and utterly oblivious to the rapidly approaching danger of the ground.  What did he have to fear from the ground?!  It was just dirt and rocks.  He was a storm made manifest!  The ground would damn well part for him if it knew what was good for it!

_“Sir!”_   The air was so warm as it tore at him, like bathing in a steaming waterfall.  He’d never felt so alive in his life!

_“Sir!  Sir the ground!”_   Yes, the ground.  The dirty filthy ground.  Didn’t it realize that he was too glorious to walk upon its grimy surface!?  He was a god!  A demon!  He had to soar and fly endlessly through the heavens!

_“We didn’t die so you could smash yourself against the ground like an idiot!  Spread your fucking wings and fly!”_   Gatti screamed at him, jostling Dilandau out of his self-aggrandizing delirium.  Barely even aware of what he was doing, the huge dark feathered wings burst from his back and caught the air beneath them, turning his suicidal dive into a spine jarring climb.  The pull on his wings was agonizing and dimly, the captain was aware of the tops of trees nearly brushing his feet, bristling like a carpet of green spears waiting to impale him.

His momentum allowed him to climb at brutal speed and had the additional side effect of clearing his head a little, allowing him to look up and take note of the second sun that had appeared in the sky, burning brightly with crimson flames even as it plummeted to the earth.  Sweet fate it was gorgeous!

He must have said it out loud because Gatti, still floating loyally at his side gave the most put upon and long-suffering sigh one could ever imagine coming from a ghost. 

_“Subtle sir, really subtle.  Truly you are a creature of the greatest discretion.”_

“Remind me to get some energist bombs!  Those are amazing!”

_“Sir, no.  Just …no.”_   The poor ghost looked about ready to fall over from frayed nerves alone.

“You never let me have any fun.  You’re as bad as Allen.”  He performed a few barrel rolls for the sheer thrill of it, dodging around a few falling chunks of debris and relishing how the air buzzed with ambient energy, making every one of his feathers tingle deliciously.  Flying was the best, and now he had obstacles to play with!  He needed to blow things up more often!

_“Sir… shouldn’t you perhaps check on the others?  The blast might have caused some problems for Van.”_

“SHIT!”  Those words had roughly the same effect as a solid punch to the face and Dilandau broke off his drunken games, racing towards the white dragon and the struggling leviship.  “Don’t you dare be hurt Fanel!”  He yelled into the air as he struggled to make out the loathsome shape of the demon armour through the dark smoke which marked the location of the Bhaagi.  “If you’re hurt I’m going to fucking kill you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for Gatti. Even death isn't making things any easier for the poor guy. I mean, how can anyone expect to deal with Dilandau level crazy? One day, he and Van are going to just get together, get drunk and bitch about insane albinos and their lack of critical thinking techniques.  
> Really loving Celena and her utter lack of fucks for the world at large. She's becoming and awesome character and is a blast to write!
> 
> Next Chapter: Reunions!


	25. You can't choose your Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions never go as well as they should. Add in a burning ship and it's par for the course for the Schezars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Surgery time! Yes loyal readers. This halloween, I let a stranger knock me out, cut me open and drill holes in my bones all for the purpose of moving around my insides into new and exciting configurations, turning me into a bio organic cyborg!! Most people just go out asking for candy, but I do things hardcore!!! I've also since learned that being under heavy pain meds make writing very very difficult, so this chapter took a bit to write... and when I say a bit, I mean several rewrites, lots of distractions, many hours moaning about how I was doomed with writer's block and never going to get it finished.   
> It was still written under the influence of rather powerful painkillers, but hopefully it all still makes sense. I think it does... but I'm not overly reliable at the moment. Anyway, enjoy the show!!

“I want all hands on full alert.  Makka and Vitone, get your asses to engineering and make sure nothing vital was ruptured by the shockwaves!”  Sibille was yelling into a box in the wall which bristled with wires and various flashing lights.  Allen hadn’t seen anything like it before, but he figured that chances were good that it was a com of some sort, especially since her voice seemed to echo through the endless hallways of the fortress, bouncing off the metal walls ominously. 

Alarms wailed loudly in the background at migraine inducing volume, making him almost long for the ominous deathly silence which had previously haunted the ship.

“Brigitte, grab Garn and the two of you get to the bridge!  I want to know what happened and if we’re under attack!”  The harridan glanced over at her shoulder as if only now realizing that Allen was there behind her.  He was under no illusion that this was the case, she’d likely known the instant he’d gotten within twenty feet of her.

“Schezar.”  She all but growled at him.  “Where’s that pigmentally challenged psycho sibling of yours?  I find it to be a grand coincidence that he and that little demon pet of his went missing just before we came under attack!”

“This wasn’t his fault!”  Allen shot back defensively before he could stop himself.  Really, all things considered, there was a very high chance that Dilandau and Van were involved in some way.  The two of them seemed to attract calamity more than any living beings on the planet.

“Escaflowne is gone!”  Regis yelled out, racing down the hallway, visibly out of breath and looking more than a little spooked.  Cursing silently to himself, Allen began to fervently wish that he’d never stumbled upon the scrawny hot-tempered king in the middle of the swamp.  His life had been nothing but chaos since.  What god of ill omen had he so badly offended in another life?  Why did this keep happening to him?  All he’d wanted was his sister back!

“You mean the little demon runt took it?”  Sibille’s jade green eyes seemed to darken rather menacingly as she glared at the young lord.  Regis, for his part looked honestly spooked, something that never boded well for an apprentice sorcerer.

“No, I mean it just up and walked out of the hangar!” 

“That’s impossible!”  The woman spat.  “Guymelef don’t just up and go for walks!  The brat had to have been inside it.”

“He wasn’t!”  Regis returned defiantly, being one of the few in Allen’s experience to meet the harridan’s glare of death without flinching.  Granted, the boy was likely far more worried about demons than the homicidal witch who’d spawned him.  Chances were that she wouldn’t eat her young… but Allen wouldn’t exactly put any gidaru on that bet.

“I know the specs for that armour and he wasn’t in it!  It was dormant!  I’d been studying it for the past half hour and there’d been no sign of life or any sort. Then, the gem in its claws started to glow, it threw its head back and roared.  I thought it was going to attack me, but the damned thing walked out of the hangar and flew away!”  Rather exaggerated hand gestures accompanied the tale, showing just how rattled the youth was.  He’d always been rather subdued physically as far as Allen had ever seen.

“There was no one in it, nothing powering it.  It just… got up and left!  Then, a few minutes later we were hit with the shockwave.”

“Wait.”  Allen cut in sharply.  “What were you doing poking around the Escaflowne?”  The last time sorcerers had gotten curious about that armour, they’d nearly torn Van apart.

He’d expected Regis to back down or at least give some sort of diplomatic deflection, but the boy was far more rattled that he’d realized when instead of doing any of these things, he rounded on Allen.

“That thing murdered my brother!”  He all but snapped.  “It cut him to pieces and there was nothing he could do to stop it!  I wanted to look into the eyes of the thing that killed Dallet.  The thing that brought my country to it’s knees.”

“You stay the hell away from that cursed thing!”  Sibille snarled, grabbing Regis by his shoulders and spinning around, forcing him to face her.  “It’s taken one of you from me already and I won’t lose the second one!”  This was perhaps the most maternal moment he’d ever seen from the woman and Allen was loathe to stop it, but they had much bigger problems ahead of them.

“Van wasn’t piloting it… not from inside at any rate.”  He finally said, his voice soft and somewhat hesitant as he struggled with whether he was sharing one of Van’s greatest secrets with some incredibly dangerous and potentially vengeful people.  “The armour is a part of him.  He can control it independently when he wants.” 

Nervously, he glanced over his shoulder in the direction he’d come from and shuddered, remembering the feel of the fortress shaking around him.  He’d been nearly knocked off his feet as it had dropped several feet from the blast and had spent several long seconds clinging tightly to the railing as he’d stared at the blinding ball of light burning its way across the horizon.  

“Van had called the armour to him.”  He continued.  “Something must have happened out there.  He wouldn’t have done something like that lightly.”

“Sibille!”  A mechanized voice sounded over the com, causing all three of them to jump in shock, their nerves stretched tight enough to snap.  It took a few moments for the harridan to square her shoulders, shoot the two men a look which clearly said _You saw nothing_ , before she pressed the little microphone button.

“What?”

“We’re registering the cause of the destruction to be an energist explosion.  The epicenter is estimated to have been five miles to the northwest.”

“I suppose it’s too much to hope that it was the damn dragon armour exploding.”  The harridan grumbled to herself.  “Have we taken damage?”  This time her voice was louder as she once again pressed the microphone button.

“It’s hard to tell.  Most of the systems are still offline.  This ship has been floating around on auxiliary power since the war.  Honestly, it’s pure dumb luck that it hasn’t hit a mountain or wandered out over the Silent Sea….er… dammit… we have a problem!”

None of them looked at all surprised at this point.  Their problems seemed to breed like rats.  Sighing heavily and likely bearing the twin to Allen’s own blossoming headache, Sibille muttered death threats under her breath before pressing the button once more.

“And this new problem would be?”  She sounded ready to strangle someone.  Just to be on the safe side, Allen and Regis both took a slight step back.

“We have leviship on approach.  It’s suffering heavy damage and isn’t responding to our hails.”

“If it’s badly damaged, they might not be capable of identifying themselves.”  Allen advised, well aware of the Zaibach policy of shoot first and work out an alibi later.  “If they’re damaged, we’re honour bound to give aid.”  That certainly earned him a murderous look from the harridan, prompting Regis to take yet another step back.  Coward.

“We are Zaibach fugitives aboard an illegal warship well beyond the borders of our country.  What we NEED to do is eliminate any witnesses.”  She hissed and turned back to the console, ready to give the order to destroy the incoming ship.

“I am NOT a fugitive, neither is Lord Falafell.  We are on the border of Freid and Fanelia, both countries I consider to be close allies.  The king of Fanelia himself travels with us.  We have done nothing illegal and I will not sit back and condone the murder of innocent people!”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission you lace bedecked moron.  I am not putting everything at risk over an unknown element!”  She reached for the button but before she could push it, Allen grabbed her hand and pulled it away.  As expected, her other hand lashed out for a nerve strike intended to deaden his arm, but he knocked it aside easily and moved himself in front of the panel, preventing her from making the call.

“This fortress was derelict and King Fanel has right of salvage seeing as he found it first.  You do not have the authority to fire upon any ship without his express permission.  Also, do remember that we are still technically prisoners.  Van has placed a great deal of trust in leaving us our freedom.  Do not abuse it.”

“Well, aren’t we suddenly a noble little ass kisser.” She sneered, thereby ending the longest length of civility that had existed between them.  “Are you fucking him too?  I’m impressed that a scrawny little thing like King Fanel has got all of your family on such a short leash.”

“He’s right Sibille.”  Regis finally spoke up, ending Allen’s internal debate about putting chivalry aside and just punching the harridan right in her foul mouth.  “This is Van’s castle for all intents and purposes.  We need him just as much as he needs us, so let’s try to keep working together.” 

Seeming to be the one in control of the situation, he motioned for Allen to move aside from the com and once the knight somewhat reluctantly did, he pressed the speaker button.

“Master Geesha, if you could join me in the med bay, we’re about to have incoming wounded.  Everyone else, report immediately to Alpha three.  We’re about to have a hard landing.  Brigitte, send them the coordinates for Bay Alpha three, that should be the easiest one for them to reach.  I want the landing plank extended and a fire brigade at the ready.”

Removing his finger from the button, he looked at the two adults with a calmness that belied his young age.

“I said all hands report to Bay three.”  He stated in a voice which left no room for argument.  “Our personal issues don’t matter right now.  Lives are on the line and as Sir Schezar has stated, we are guests here after a fashion.  Before you open your mouth to argue Sibille, as you yourself said, we’re Zaibachi in hostile territory.  It would be wise of us to do everything we could to endear ourselves to our southern hosts.”  Giving neither of them time to argue him, he proceeded to turn away from them both as he walked regally towards what Allen assumed was the direction of the med bay.

He honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about being issued orders by a teenager.  Their courtly ranks were equal, and both were adults as far as their respective countries were concerned.  Still, he had a solid point and was actually agreeing with Allen in regard to the incoming ship.  They could work out their differences later, once the emergency was over.

In contrast, Sibille looked almost proud of his outburst, her anger over being overruled forgotten at the sight of her remaining child taking charge of a tense situation and standing up for what he believed in.  At least, that’s what Allen hoped she was feeling.  For all he knew, she could be plotting to toss him off the catwalk later.

“He gets that from you.”  Allen murmured softly, attempting to extend an olive branch towards the woman.  If they didn’t work together, lives would potentially be lost, and despite that look of pride she’d given her son, she was likely to turn into a bristling ball of spite at any moment.

Snorting inelegantly, the harridan glanced over at Allen then began walking towards the aforementioned Bay three. 

“Well, he certainly doesn’t get it from his father.”  On that, they could both agree.

 

He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting when they managed to open the huge bay doors.  What with the power still being out in most sections of the ship, four men were recruited to manually wince the huge doors open.  It was a tediously slow process and one which warned that the bay itself required a great deal of maintenance to bring back into top condition.

The landing platform had been extended, but no one seemed to be overly confident on how well it would function seeing as how they could all see the large amounts of smoke billowing out of the side of the ship, not to mention the extensive damage to both wings. 

Most surprising however was the sight of the white dragon armour clutching the ship in it’s mighty talons.  The Escaflowne’s energist heart shone like a small sun as it strained to hold the ship aloft and guide it towards its destination.  In the saddle, Allen could even make out Van, his wings fully extended to aid in any way possible.  Sweat ran down the young king’s body and his normally tan skin was ruddy from the exertion.  The pendant around his neck shone brilliantly, contrasting sharply with the dark feather which seemed to draw in it’s light, keeping them trapped in it’s gleaming heart.

No doubt he was putting every bit of energy he had into the armour, forgetting that he needed to keep some back for himself.

It brought a faint smile to Allen’s lips, seeing that despite the harder and colder being Van had become, he was still selfless in his core, willing to sacrifice everything for others.

As the ship passed the threshold of the bay doors, several of the crew began throwing up magnetic clamps which attached to the hull.  The chains which anchored them to the floor drew taut as the anchors were then maneuvered into place, guiding the leviship further into the bay. 

One man’s voice rose over the din of it all, shouting out positions to the others with calm assurance, ensuring that everything was coordinated to ensure the ship moved as far into the bay as possible.  Each person moved with an air of familiarity with their task, hinting that the leviship crew had performed similar drills often enough for each step to be common place.

Before the leviship had even come to a complete stop, the fire crews were aiming great hoses towards the smoking hull, coating everything in a thick layer of foam, while another group began closing the huge bay doors behind it.  Everyone moved with crisp precision, not a single moment was wasted, which was good because Van looked ready to collapse on the spot.

Moments before the bay door closed, a second figure shot through the opening at an impressive speed.  Little more than a dark blur, they careened off the far wall, barrel rolled twice and then attempted to land.  Had they been moving at a slower clip, they likely would have managed a rather graceful landing, but seeing as how they were most definitely moving much too fast for such a manoeuvre, it was quite the opposite.  Armoured boots skidded on the deck, actually creating a small shower of sparks before catching on some small imperfection and sending the individual into a rather impressive display of unfortunate aerial acrobatics for several meters before their momentum was stopped by the now closed door.

The dull thud of their impact sounded far too loud in the sudden silence of the hangar as everyone froze and stared in horrified fascination at the spectacular crash landing.  Even the fire brigade forgot for a moment that they were supposed to be putting out the flames, standing there slack jawed as the rest of them.

No one could believe what they were seeing, least of all Allen who felt his heart skip several beats even as his world came to a rather screeching halt.  His mind refused to believe what his eyes were insisting was in fact reality and he distantly was aware of him murmuring denials over and over again.

Absolutely oblivious to the chaos his kamikaze entrance had caused, a silvery-white haired head popped up from behind the large black wings which had wrapped tightly around the body, acting to cushion the worst of the impact.  Eyes which glowed like active drag-energist darted their gaze around the room, never settling on any one thing for more than a moment, likely not even really registering what they were seeing.  The pupils were so contracted that they were practically non-existent and Allen bit back a low groan. 

Dilandau was high on something.  He had no idea what it was, or who was stupid enough to give the unbalanced teen narcotics, but the knight knew that look.   Seeing it in his brother’s eyes was one of the worst things he could imagine having to deal with.  Of course, seeing that his brother seemed to have mystically sprouted a set of rather majestic looking black wings, there was a good chance that the knight just might be partaking in whatever it was the dragonslayer had dosed himself with.

So shocking were the wings, that Allen barely paid any attention to the blood spattering across that too pale face, or streaking his wind tangled hair.  Chances were that it wasn’t Dilandau’s, and really, at this point, that was all that truly mattered.

The wings snapped open with an audible crack of displaced air as the dragonslayer shot to his feet, revealing battered leather armour hanging off of his slender frame.  Allen had no idea why he was half out of uniform, or why he was liberally splattered with blood, but that face splitting grin spoke volumes.

“HA!”  Dilandau jabbed a finger sharply in Van’s direction, his grin growing impossibly wider.  “I told you that I could beat the doors!”  In stark contrast to the hyper dragonslayer, Van merely slumped in his saddle, his wings laying flat on either side of him, too heavy to lift into a more comfortable position.   He was still breathing hard from his previous exertions, sweat dripping off his soaked hair, yet he still found the energy to roll his eyes.

“Yes, you’re incredible.  We’re all in awe.”  He couldn’t sound any less awed if he’d tried, not that the dragonslayer seemed to notice.  Instead, he puffed up in pride, his wings lifting and arching elegantly over his back.

Wings… his little brother had wings.  It was impossible!  There was no way he could have them, but he did…

Over and over, Geesha had told him that Dilandau wasn’t human, that he was something else entirely, but he’d never truly understood that statement.  It had been little more than sorcerous mumbo jumbo.  He’d thought they’d meant mentally, or psychologically… not this.

His gaze darted from Dilandau to Van then back again.  Draconian… child of Atlantis… increased fate particles… fate manipulation… They’d taken his little sister and turned her into a demon.  But… but Dilandau wasn’t a demon.  He was a badly abused child who’d suffered far more than anyone had any right to.  He was his brother.  His little, annoying, and brilliant brother.

“A draconian.”  Sibille gave voice to the screaming jabbering in Allen’s head.  “Those idiotic madoushi made him into a gods be damned draconian.  As if he wasn’t enough trouble!”  He could practically hear her hands clenching into fists at her side.  “Empty fate, I swear I’m going to punch Geesha right in her damn face for this!”

“I don’t think I’ll stop you.”  He replied absently, unable to tear his eyes away from his little brother who seemed to have decided that Van wasn’t paying him nearly enough attention.  Leaping into the air, those huge dark wings flapped twice, sending him up to the top of the hangar and blasting everyone back with the sheer power of the downdraft they created.

Dropping down behind the king, Dilandau swept the surprised monarch into his arms and kissed him deeply in front of everyone. 

The sound of the fire hose being dropped was loud in the continued silence of the hangar, but Allen barely noticed.  He stared at the two lovers, for there was no doubt that this was exactly what they were.  There was no faking the way they melted against each other, perfectly at ease, yet burning with an energy that quite literally crackled around them.

Van’s pendant flared and began glowing, growing brighter with every passing moment the two of them stayed locked in the intimate embrace.  Amazingly, the huge energist casing still gripped in the Escaflowne’s clawed hand shone in answer, beating rapidly as it mimicked the heart of its pilot.

“Ten gidaru says that the king passes out from lack of oxygen.”  Sibille murmured, seeming to get over her initial surprise rather quickly in favour of throwing barbs.  These thankfully sank home, shaking Allen out of his shock. 

His little brother was up there kissing the king of Fanelia like some lusty harlot.  The king who’d just recently asked permission to court him!  They were displaying gross amounts of indecent intimacy in front of a hangar full of people!

“VAN!”  He yelled up at the two figures, knowing that yelling at Dilandau would elicit nothing more than challenge.  At least the king could be counted on to show some level of shame!  Well, he would be if thrice be damned teenage hormones weren’t making him blind and deaf to anything other than the other boy.  “King Van Slanzer Fanel!”  He tried again, invoking the darker youth’s full title.  “Get down here immediately!”

There was that fleeting moment of satisfaction as the king seemed to stiffen in shock, his brain rather visibly coming back online and realizing just what sort of scandalous tableau they were creating.  Breaking away from the kiss, Van glanced down, guilt written plainly across his face as he met Allen’s accusing glare, tan cheeks darkening noticeably with blush. 

The answering glare he received from Dilandau was nothing short of spine chilling as those dark wings mantled like a hawk around its prey, only in this case, it was Van.  Amazingly, the king actually did look better, revitalized even.  His own wings were held properly behind his back and his skin practically glowed. 

Smiling sheepishly at Allen, Van turned to whisper something in Dilandau’s ear that seemed to catch the dragonslayers attention rather abruptly.  Glowing eyes widened, and those wings snapped open once more as he grabbed onto Van, completely ignoring the other’s ability to fly, and dove off the back of the ship. 

He had no idea Van knew half of the words currently pouring out of his mouth, but he had a good idea where he’d learned them and fixed Dilandau with an accusing look.

Rather than caring, Dilandau released Van and strode right past them all as if they didn’t exist, heading straight for the cargo door of the damaged ship.  Thankfully, the king seemed to take it all in stride, stumbling slightly as he was released, but quickly catching up to the other teen, his earlier exhaustion utterly forgotten.

“We need the Med bay prepped and ready for patients.”  Dilandau snapped loudly, his voice carrying to all corners of the hangar and radiating unmistakable authority.  “Send someone to-”

 “It’s already being taken care of.”  Pleased to have regained his proverbial footing, Allen finally willed his feet to begin moving as he strode towards his little brother.  “Regis and Geetha are there waiting for us to bring people in.” 

His calm response seemed to act as a signal to the rest of the people in the hangar to get back to what they were doing, which was trying to put out the smoldering fires of the ship before they grew too large to control.  Noise began to fill the hangar as orders were called out and teams organized themselves to deal with the emergency. 

Of course, he could still feel the weight of every eye still trained on them.  No one was stupid enough to let one, let alone two draconians out of their sight.  Especially as volatile a pair as these two had proven to be.  Sweet Jeture, Allen had so many questions for them, but knew that they’d have to wait until this emergency had passed.

As they drew closer to the ship, the true extent of the damage became clear, as did the strange source.

“This wasn’t from the energist explosion.”  He murmured softly, reaching out a hand to touch the still warm metal of the ship.  Something solid had struck the ship, burning the thick metal hull, adding to the damage of the initial impact.  What could have done this?

“Energist bombs.”  Van noted, batting Dilandau’s hand away as the albino pressed his fingers against the damage, giggling softly.  It had to be Allen’s overtaxed imagination, but he could swear that Dilandau’s eyes glowed even brighter as he played with the ragged burns.  “The Basram ship was firing on the Bhaagi.  The bastards.”  He snarled the last word with startling vehemence, his hands clenching into fists as his wings rose aggressively. 

Dilandau’s giggle grew marginally louder and much more indulgent.  It was a sound Allen knew all too well from the war and there was no doubt in his mind as to who was responsible for its destruction.

“Vermin, cluttering my beautiful sky with their foul presence.  But I made such a beautiful little sun in the sky, didn’t I?”  He purred at Van, the smile he shot the king was a rather unsettling mixture of homicidal lust which should have sent the other teen backpedaling away.  Instead, he shared an almost matching expression with the dragonslayer who practically preened in response. 

“They’re nothing but ash and dust now.  Delicious down to the last death.”  

That was perhaps the most disturbing thing he’d ever heard his little brother ever say, which was horrifyingly impressive in all the worst ways.

“No one hurts my children and lives!”  That statement, filled with overwhelming paternal protectiveness brought Allen up short and for a second time in as many minutes, he was struck mute with shock.  Children… Van had mentioned it, but it hadn’t seemed possible.  Just a strange fantasy brought about by an overwrought mind.  If Dilandau was saying it though, especially with such homicidal conviction, there really was no room to doubt.

Van snarled something softly in agreement as Dilandau slammed his palm against the locking mechanism of the door.  There was an audible clunk deep in the metal, then a thunderous boom of impact as something huge and heavy slammed against the now unlocked door. 

Whatever was on the other side of the door let out an ear-splitting shriek that turned everyone’s blood cold in their veins as they all froze, wondering what new level of hell these two demons were about to unleash on them this time.

It should be impossible, the metal was several inches thick, but it still bent and bowed as if made of little more than a thin layer of tin.  One, twice, whatever was on the other side slammed into the barrier, causing the overtaxed hinges to groan in warning before, with a terrible screech, the door tore open, unable to bear the strain.

Before anyone could react, a dark scaled shape the size of a small horse barreled into the captain at full speed.  Dilandau didn’t even have time to do anything more than let out an undignified squawk as the air was driven forcefully out of his lungs.  The two bodies toppled over each other across the floor in a mix of scales and flying feathers before finally coming to a stop several costa from the bottom of the ramp.

Still standing in place, Allen’s mind struggled to process what his eyes were seeing.  At least this was the case until the great beast opened a tooth filled mouth large enough to swallow a young child in one bite and let out an ear shattering screeching roar.

“DRAGON!!”  Someone shouted in panic.  It was a cry which was quickly taken up by others as chaos took over the bay, sending everyone running in different directions.

“We’re all going to die!”

“It’s the curse of Atlantis!”  People began to scramble for makeshift weapons, everyone all too aware that nothing they could do would stop the beast.  It would tear through them like paper, as evidenced by how quickly it had taken down the vicious captain.

“DILANDAU!”  Allen screamed, convinced that he was about to lose his beloved sibling yet again.  Unconcerned with the suicidal odds stacked against him, he raced towards the beast, ready to pull it off his brother with his bare hands if that’s what it took!

His forward momentum was brought to a speedy halt by Van tacking him from behind, sending them both to the floor.

“Stop!”  He warned, wings spread out, fouling the knight’s attempts to rise and blinding him to what was most likely Dilandau’s last moments of life.  “Kamata doesn’t know you and he’ll kill you if you try to pull him away!”  Not listening, the knight managed to wedge an arm between them and shoved the king away, sending him sprawling.

“I have to save him!”  He’d almost gotten his feet back under him when one of Van’s wings slammed into the back of his knees, sending him back down to the deck.

“He’s not in danger!”  Van favoured him with a solid slap from the same wing.  It was like being hit by a feather covered wall and when combined with his previous head injury, left the knight with a ringing headache.

In a particularly vicious move, the king lunged forward, grabbing onto Allen’s long hair and forcing him to not only hold still, but to look at the imminent death of his sibling. 

“Look dammit!  He’s fine!”

For a long moment, Allen struggled fiercely against the young king, heedless of how several golden strands of hair were being torn out at the roots or the way his head spun in warning.  Furious at this betrayal, he swung out with his elbow, hoping to score a hit on the smaller warrior. 

Unfortunately, Allen’s strengths lay in the sword, not rolling around and grappling like a peasant, something it seemed Van had devoted quite some time to.  Even as he fought, his eyes never left the supine figure pinned to the floor beneath the dragon’s bulk.  He could see the dark wings flapping as they struggled to catch the air.  Pale hands pounded and clutched at the armour tough scales and the high-pitched voice yelled out loudly in… indignation?

“When did you get so fat you overgrown gecko!?  STOP SITTING ON ME!!  Ugh and don’t lick me!  Your breath is disgusting, and I know what you’ve had in your mouth!”

“It’s just Kamata!”  Van continued, still tugging at the knight’s hair.  “He’s our dragon!”

The words seemed to finally cut through the panicked haze of Allen’s mind and he paused, struggling to take in what he was seeing and hearing.  _“our dragon?”_   It was with them?  It was… a pet?

“We… um… we forgot to mention Kamata.”  Van looked more than a little sheepish as he carefully released his death grip on Allen’s hair, sensing that this battle at least was over. 

“How do you forget to mention a dragon!?”  Though Allen didn’t take his eyes off of the strange tableau for even a moment, his indignation was clear to everyone and Van couldn’t quite keep from flinching.  In hindsight, it really was the sort of thing he should have mentioned.

“Likely the same way they forgot to mention the fact that he really is fucking your little brother, or that they both really are the demons the rumours all claim they are.”  Sibille strode over to them, her movements and voice cool and confident, but the didn’t take her eyes off the dragon for a moment.  “It’s amazing really how those things seemed to slip your collective minds.  In fact, it almost makes me wonder what other secrets you two are hiding.”

Sensing the proximity of many unknown humans, Kamata paused in his loving mauling of the dragonslayer to glare at the intruders, snarling loudly as his tail raised in warning.  Everyone not of draconian lineage took a careful step back, ready to run for their lives in the next few moments.

“Oh calm down you overgrown pile of boot leather.”  Dilandau struggled to pull himself out from under the beast, his wings giving a few pathetic flaps which accomplished nothing save for shedding several glossy black fleathers.  “Now get off me so we can help the others!  Your siblings are hurt and so help me if you slow me down I will gut you where you stand!”  Baleful glowing eyes turned away from the dragon and fixed everyone else in the room with a look which promised a slow and torturous death for anyone not currently acting to protect those in the ship.  “And what are the rest of you doing?  Gawking like a bunch of virgins at a brothel! That’s what!  Get your asses into that ship and help the wounded!  Dammit Kamata, you’re standing on my wing!  Get off!”  An armoured fist struck the dragon’s foreleg, doing no damage at all, but the beast quickly scrambled back, freeing his captive to attempt to regain his lost dignity.

Unafraid of the beast or it’s aggressive posture, Van strode forward into the range of the lethal tail and claws, stopping only to offer a hand to Dilandau.  Naturally, it was immediately slapped away with a snarl.  It seemed that not everything had changed over the past colour and for some odd reason, that seemed to settle Allen’s rattled nerves somewhat.

“Deal with it, push it aside, have a breakdown later.”  He mumbled to himself, edging forward slightly, only to have the dragon’s snarl grow in pitch and volume.  The looming tail shifted slightly, ready to sheer the knight in half should he dare take another stop closer.

“Oh, shut up Kamata.  You don’t get to eat him.”  Dilandau grumbled, using the dragon’s powerful foreleg to haul himself to his feet, giving his wings a slight flap and shaking several more feathers loose in the process.  “HEY!”  He punched the leg in warning when the growl didn’t stop and to Allen’s shock, the beast actually shut up, dropping its head submissively even as its tail lowered.

“Yeah, that’s right.”  The dragonslayer stated in a voice which brooked no argument.  “Don’t forget your place with me.  The blonde idiot is mine.  You don’t get to eat what belongs to me.”   The Crusade crew was never going to believe this.  Actually, no, they totally would, and it would feature in all of their stories for years to come, how their “brat” cowed a dragon.

“Come on Van!  Stuff’s burning and I don’t want to miss it!”  The albino was suddenly all eager grins once more as he patted the dragon affectionately then turned around and raced back towards the ship at top speed, a psychotic giggle erupting from his mouth.

Van took a moment to roll his eyes in exasperation before taking off after the hyperactive dragonslayer.  His earlier exhaustion seemed to be a thing of the past, leaving Allen more than a little stunned at the abrupt turnaround.

“We’ll bring the people out!”  Van called over his shoulder noticing the still frozen and terrified crew, clutching their makeshift weapons.  There was no mistaking the way his upper lip curled slightly in contempt at the sight of their fear.  It didn’t matter that this was likely far too much for these people to take in all at once.  Lives were in danger and that should matter more than anything else. 

It was immediately obvious to the young king that they were going to be doing this alone.  It was a daunting task, but Van refused to flinch away.  The bond between the two draconians kept the energy flowing from the energist drunk Dilandau into Van, keeping the two of them on their feet and more importantly, ready to do whatever it took to protect their family.  Well, it would if Van could keep the dragonslayer focussed on the task at hand. 

Following on Dilandau’s heels, he paused for a moment to note the rather impressive amount of damage Kamata had inflicted on the door in such a short period of time. It was easy to forget just how powerful and dangerous he was when the dragon was begging for scraps or attempting to cuddle like some overgrown pup. 

Not that Van blamed the poor beast.  Kamata had had some rather dreadful introductions to air travel in his short life.  If their places had been swapped, he’d likely be ready to do anything to get out of the leviship too.  At least Dilandau hadn’t been piloting this leviship. 

Glancing over at the albino in question, Van couldn’t help but smile to himself, watching the dragonslayer throw open door after door without any concern for possible danger to himself.  Determined to help anyone trapped inside.

Most of the cabins were empty, but on the third, they found two of the freidian crewmen laying on the floor dazed amongst a scattering of tools.  It looked as if they’d been conducting emergency repairs. 

Instantly, the two teens were at their sides, checking for injuries.  It seemed to be bumps and bruises for the most part, though Van was rather sure that the wrist of the older one was sprained. 

Helping them carefully stand, Van was surprised to see Allen and that devil woman both standing there in the doorway.

“I’ll see that they find their way to the med bay.”  The woman stated, stepping forward, ready to take the injured off their hands.  Noting Van’s look of suspicion, she smiled grimly at him, not intimidated in the least which was more than a little impressive all on its own.

“Unless you two plan on escorting every injured person out, you’re going to have to pass over some of the responsibility, and my crew frankly is terrified of you.  They’re not particularly fond of Blondie either, so that leaves me.”  She had a point, but his faith in people not in his immediate circle had been severely shaken as of late and he was reluctant to let anyone out of his sight if he could help it.

“Hurt them or fuck with me in any way Sibille, and nothing will stop me from ripping your soul out and scattering it to the four winds.”  Dilandau hissed softly, his eyes flaring for a moment as he motioned for the injured to go with her.  The threat should have sounded utterly preposterous, but Van couldn’t quite keep from shivering.  No one doubted that the dragonslayer meant every word he’d said.

“Try to keep them out of trouble.”  She ordered Allen, ignoring Dilandau in favour of carefully helping both men out the door.

“You’re not going with her?”  Van didn’t mean to sound as short as he did, thankfully, Allen didn’t seem to take any offence.  Instead, he offered them both a thin smile.

“Every time I let you two out of my sight, something explodes.  I think I’ll stay close by this time.”  Dilandau snorted softly at the proclamation, brushing past the knight as he headed back into the hallway, intent on finding more injured to rescue.  Van managed to dredge up a faint smile.  It was nice having Allen there with them.  They’d been through so much together and he knew that no matter what, the knight could be counted on to keep a clear head, something neither of the teens were well known for.

He felt like he should say something.  Maybe apologise for how he’d acted earlier or promise to do right by his brother, but the words wouldn’t come.  Instead, the two men exchanged a weighted look which might have perhaps led to meaningful words had Dilandau not stomped over, grabbed onto Van’s arm and tugged him abruptly away.  
            In the end, it was Van’s gift that proved to be the most invaluable.  He was able to sense where the people were scattered about the ship.  By some hidden blessing, it seemed to guide them to those who needed the greatest help first, something for which the young king was deeply thankful.  While he might not have been responsible for the damage to the ship, he still felt a deep sense of responsibility to those within it, be they wolf-kin, zaibachi, crew or his own children. 

It didn’t take a zaibach stategos to put two and two together.  The Baghi was here rather than in the capital dealing with the devastation they’d caused.  More importantly, it carried all of the people who’d come to mean so much to the king within it’s hull.  People who were supposed to be imprisoned.  Chid had mentioned that they’d escaped, but words didn’t hold a candle to seeing something in truth. 

These people had thrown everything away to help his family.  They would be considered worse than criminals in the eyes of Freid.  They were traitors to their country, having embraced that stigma willingly in order to help them.  As far as Van was concerned, that made them just as important as blood kin. 

With the bond sizzling between them, bolstered by Dilandau being drenched in energist energy from the explosion, he could feel every life on the ship pulsing around them.  They shone through the hull of the ship, their heartbeats echoed down each hallway and he could feel the urgency in each one as the pendant in his mind danced about, leading them to one victim after another.

He’d never before truly appreciated his skill in rudimentary first aid, nor Dilandau’s flair for battlefield medicine.  They used broken pipes and torn clothes to splint broken bones, bound wounds with shirts and never once flinched or fell to panic as they moved from one body to the next. 

While Allen’s medical skills wasn’t equal to those of the teens, he more than made up for it by gathering needed items, using his greater size to carry those who couldn’t walk towards the waiting members of the crew and most importantly, kept the injured awake and aware of their surroundings.  His cool and calm demeanor lent even the grizzliest wounds a sense of control and stability, allowing Van to snap a bone back into place while Dilandau staunched the flow of blood. 

They made a formidable team, not that any of them were ready to admit it.  Still, each time a crewman or member of the teen’s entourage managed to wobble away from the ship, they each shared a grateful glance with each other before proceeding to the next emergency. 

While it felt like they’d been in this ship for ages, Allen knew it has likely only been an hour at most.  His hair was matted and tangled, sweat drenched his clothes despite the cold air and he knew that the instant he stopped moving for more than a minute, he was going to fall over from exhaustion.  How the two teenagers were not only still moving, but practically vibrating with energy baffled him beyond words.  Not that he wasn’t grateful, quite the opposite in fact. 

It was thrilling to see them working not only together, but so seamlessly that it seemed as if they could read each other’s minds.  Even more impressive was the attitude shown to them by the zaibachi people.  While Allen had expected a certain amount of reverence and awe to be shown towards Dilandau in accordance to his stature as a national hero as far as the war was concerned, Van should have been the utter opposite.  Instead, these people were showing him clear deference and respect, more shockingly, it was even returned in kind by the king. 

Unlike the Freidian crew, the pale zaibach people seemed to pay little attention to the wings on either youth, accepting them to be a part of the whole strange package.  Several even did their best to say thank you in fanelian.  The words sounding strange with their harsh northern accent.

One room they entered was close to an impact site.  Allen could see where the hull had grown super hot and buckled in.  The force of the hit had caused several large pipes and struts to break free, one of which had fallen onto a young woman, pinning her to the floor.  Even from where they stood, they could see that one of her legs was bent badly beneath her and a worrisome amount of blood covered her face.

Next to her was a middle aged freidian man in an engineer’s uniform who was groaning softly, carefully picking himself up from the floor and barely aware of what was going on around him.  A dark bruise covered one side of his face, causing his eye to swell shut.  He saw the woman the same time they did and gasped out a prayer as he grabbed at the heavy pipe.

Allen was right there with him, quick to help and leaving the two more medically inclined members of their group to move in and help the woman.

“Vega!”  Van gasped loudly as he pressed his fingers to her throat, checking for a pulse while Dilandau quickly checked her body for hidden injuries.  “I’ve got a pulse!”  He instructed, wincing as he saw the state of her leg, knowing that it was badly broken.  “It’s weak though…Dammit, she’s bleeding badly.”  A bone had torn through the muscle of her leg and once the pressure was taken off of the limb, he could see blood spurting rhythmically from the wound. 

Breaking off from his check, Dilandau immediately pressed his hand down on her inner thigh, shutting off the blood at her pressure point.  The spurting stopped quickly, but the woman’s skin was growing pale and clammy.  Worse, she wasn’t waking up despite their actions.

“Stay with us Vega!”  He urged her even as Dilandau grabbed his hand and practically shoved it in the woman’s crotch next to his own, pressing the blade of it against her hard.

“Keep pressing down.”  The captain instructed firmly.  “And don’t released it until I tell you or she’ll bleed to death in seconds.”  Upon saying that, he withdrew his own hand and then pulling out a knife, quickly cut away the leg of her pants, exposing the wound.

“What can I do?”  Allen found himself asking, more than a little off balance as not being in charge of the situation despite being the only actual adult in the room.

“Check the engineer for any glaring wounds and stay out of our way.”  Dilandau snapped, not taking his eyes off of the ragged wound which had been torn open by the broken bone punching through the skin.  It was bad, he found himself noting with professional detachment.  The femoral artery had been torn by the edge of the bone.  It was a mess and there was no way they were going to be able to move her without causing even more damage.

“She pushed me out of the way!”  The engineer stated in a voice numb with shock.  “She saw the pipe come loose and pushed me!”  Dilandau tensed at the sound of the freidian language though he gave no other outwards sign of his discomfort.  Van on the other hand felt the shriek of wild rage tear through their bond and knew that if the man made a single step towards the downed woman, he’d be killed instantly.

“You need to see a medic.”  The king stated to the man in a firm voice.  “Head to the loading bay, there’s people there who will take you to med bay.  Can you walk?”  He received a simple head nod in answer and the man opened his mouth to say something else, likely thanks or an offer to help, but Van held up his free hand, knowing that Dilandau’s temper was back on the ragged edge again.  In fact, he could see bits of dark energy sizzle along those dark wings and had noted how his pendant was flickering ominously.

“Just go and get yourself seen to.” He instructed.  “Help anyone you find along the way if you can and let the people outside the ship know that we need a stretcher in here.”  He watched as the man nodded his head, dark eyes sparking with realization as he no doubt noted the rising tension in the captain. 

Rather than argue, the man bowed deeply to them both and backed out of the room as if moving away from a dangerous predator. 

With every step, Dilandau’s tension lessened, allowing him to focus on carefully immobilizing Vega’s leg.  Her ruined pants were being used to soak up the seeping blood.

“Release the pressure carefully.”  The dragonslayer instructed, pretending that they hadn’t in fact been moments away from slaughter.  Unwilling to distract either of them with dramatics, Van complied without comment, watching the wound carefully and feeling his despair swell as the blood once again began to spurt.

“It’s not stopping.”  Allen stated, earning twin dark looks from the two teens for his contribution.

“Why thank you Shezar, I would never have noticed the crimson fountain spurting from her fucking leg!”  Dilandau snapped, his lips pulling back into a sneer of utter contempt.  There was no need to tell Van to resume the pressure, he was already pressing down on her thigh with all of his weight, desperate to stave off the inevitable.

“She’s fading!”  Van blurted out, noting the greyish tone to her skin and how weak her pulse was growing.  “We’ve got pressure on the wound!  How is she dying?”  Swearing softly, Dilandau pulled up the woman’s shirt, checking her torso for further damage and all of them gasped at seeing the dark almost black bruising beneath the skin of her abdomen. 

Carefully, the dragonslayer felt the tight skin, noting the pressure against his hand and how it grew even darker as they watched.  She was bleeding badly internally and there was nothing they could do.  Even if the stretcher arrived at this moment, the damage was too great. She’d die in transport.

“Don’t you dare die on me Vega!”  He screamed at her in zaibachi, slamming his hand against the pipe which had taken her life.  “You fight you damn coward!  No surrender!  We didn’t free you so you could die on the floor of a fucking freidian ship!” 

When his orders were not obeyed, he shrieked in wild rage, drawing his hand back to strike her, only to have his arm caught in Allen’s firm.  He struggled for a moment, shrieking like a wild animal, his wings beating at the desperate knight ruthlessly before he felt the building energy sizzle along his skin.

Freezing his attack, he slowly turned around to see Van crouched above Vega’s weakening body, his one hand still pressing firmly on her inner thigh while his other rested gently on her forehead.  His eyes were closed in deep concentration and sweat stood out on his brow, shining in the brilliant light of the pendant.

Allen had never seen it so bright or beautiful.  Even when Hitomi held it in her hands, it hadn’t shone like this and he stared transfixed, feeling a radiant warmth wash over his skin.

Moaning softly, Dilandau stared at Van, his eyes perfectly matching the pendants glow as he reached forward, easily breaking the knight’s suddenly lax grip.  The leather gloved hand was gently placed on Van’s shoulder and Allen swore that he actually saw sparks dance around the point of contact, sizzling along both teenager’s bodies as the pendant flared like a sun, blinding the knight, forcing him to turn away.  Spots danced behind his eyelids and he struggled to control his breathing, keeping panic at bay as his brain struggled to understand just what was going on.  
            “You swore yourself to me.”  Van murmured softly in fanelian.  “Your life is mine, and I refuse to let you die.  Not when we have so much to do, not when the pain of losing even one of us is too much.  Come back to us Vega.”  The light flared and Allen felt a rush of warmth like a summer’s breeze brush wash over his skin, then, in the ensuing silence, a soft coughing sound could be heard.

Opening his eyes, he saw the woman sitting up carefully and looking about herself in a somewhat dazed fashion.  The skin on her abdomen was clear and unmarked, the terrible tear along her leg gone without a trace.

Van remained crouched over her, his eyes closed and his hands still resting gently on her.  The pendant no longer glowed but Allen knew that he’d never forget that rush of power flowing over him.

“L…Lord Van…. Lord Dilandau…”  She murmured in fragmented Astorian, trying to stand respectfully, only to have both teens gently push her back down.

“Stay still.”  Van cautioned her gently, his own eyes rather wide in shock.  “Let us check your injuries.  You were badly hurt.”  As he spoke, Dilandau gently prodded her abdomen, pressing a little more firmly when she didn’t wince or show any adverse reaction.  Though he was just as shocked as Van, he quickly covered it up, refusing to show any weakness in front of someone he considered to be an underling.

“How do you feel?”  He asked her in zaibachi, crimson eyes locked on hers, still glowing faintly in their depths.  Confused, the woman glanced down at the pipe which had nearly claimed her life, then to the two teens. 

“Fine…”  She murmured softly, realization of her near brush with death dawning, causing her to grow pale and nervous.  “Better than fine actually.  I feel good.  Better than I have in a long time.”  Favouring them both with a grateful smile, the then looked over at Dilandau.  “I saw the Paths of the Dead.  It was so cold, so heartbreaking… but then I saw Them.  I saw your dragonslayers.  They… they looked so proud and strong sir.  They kept me from crossing over onto the path until you both saved me.” Smiling warmly at them both, she gently pushed Dilandau’s hands away.

“I’m fine sir.  You both saved me.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” 

Dilandau studied her for a long moment, eyes widening slightly at the mention of his men and Van saw the faintest twitch of his lips as he fought to keep from smiling in pride.

“If you’re fine then why are you just laying there Private?!”  He snapped at her sharply.  “Stand up and help us locate the others.  They could be hurt while you’re just laying there being lazy!”  His tone was harsh and sharp, but lacked any real heat.  It was as close to thanking her as he was going to allow himself to get while in public.

Vega struggled to her feet without delay, still not used to the volatile captain’s various levels of anger and not willing to risk another trip back to the paths of the dead.  Her legs wobbled slightly, but held firm and strong beneath her.

“How?”  Allen finally regained the ability to speak around his shock as he stared at the woman who had been at the gates of death mere moments ago now standing without aid.  “How are you still alive?”

“Fate alteration.”  Van was the one to reply, his voice soft, barely above a whisper.  “We… Dilandau and I can change things, make impossible things happen when we’re together.  It’s something Shroden did to us in that last experiment.”

“But… the power required for that!!  It should be impossible!”

“And yet we did just that.”  Dilandau snapped, inserting himself into the conversation as he made a show of dusting off his uniform and motioning them towards the doors.  “While you are gawking, more of our people could be dying.” 

Stalking past all of them, he pushed Allen out of the way and headed out into the hallway, moving deeper into the ship.  Vega glanced over at Van, waiting for his instructions, but the king was busy giving Allen a somewhat apologetic look.

“He’s just tense right now.”  The king explained in lieu of an apology.  “Too much has happened to him lately, and there’s all these new people around… He’s not meaning to be an ass.”  Van’s cheeks coloured slightly as he realized that this was the first time he’d used offensive language in front of the knight.  He felt like a child caught swearing by his parents… at least how he imagined one would feel. 

Thankfully the knight waved the apology away, though there was no hiding the flash of hurt in his eyes.

“No, he’s right.  Our priority is the lives of those on this ship.  Everything else can wait.” 

“Just don’t let it wait too long.”  Van advised, following the other draconian into the hallway, Vega trailing in his wake.  Allen watched them leave the room.  Impossible children doing impossible things.  Once more his azure eyes fell upon the place where a life had been returned against all odds, where the gods themselves had been defeated and denied their prize.  An icy cold shiver ran down his spine as he thought about the power he’d just seen.

There was no doubt in his mind that this was the power of Atlantis that he’d just witnessed, but as incredible as it was, he couldn’t quite shake the memory of seeing those ruins in Asgard.  That power had destroyed an entire world, and now it was in the hands of two rather unbalanced and high-strung teenagers. 

Knowing that he didn’t dare leave either one of said teens unattended for any length of time, Allen hastened to follow them, more than half dreading what other surprises might be in store for him.

At least he found them easily enough.  They could be tracked by the eerie sounding howls which echoed down the corridor, making the knight’s hair stand on end as he wondered what new beast they were about to confront.

Oddly enough, the howling seemed to be coming from Dilandau.  His voice rising and falling, interspersed with strange growls and half whines.  Worse, he was being answered by something behind the doors.  If it was another dragon, Allen was seriously considering just walking away from the whole ordeal.  There was a limit to what he was ready to accept from his sibling… oh who was he kidding?  He’d stick it out like the idiot he was, too damn loyal to know when to leave well enough alone.

“The Red Paws are trapped in here.”  Van clarified for him helpfully, or at least attempting to be such, not realizing that this really didn’t shed any light on whatever was responding to his little brother’s newest manifestation of madness.  “They’re a wolf clan we’ve sort of joined up with.  That’s Rushah, their leader.  He says that most of the Zaibachi are in there too save for a few that went to help the crew.” 

The king paused for a moment, listening to the strange exchange taking place on either side of the door, not looking like he found this the least bit odd.

“Rushah says that there were hurt people, but they’re healed now.  They’re trapped in the room though and can’t get out.”

“Less talking and more pulling Van.”  Dilandau cut in.  “Schezar doesn’t need a translator, he needs to get off his damn lace bedecked ass and help us!” 

The three of them were straining against a bar which has wedged itself against a heavy door.  It looked like a strut which had broken free from its moorings and dropped down just enough to prevent the door from opening. 

Despite their best efforts, they weren’t making much headway, but none of them appeared to be at all ready to give up.  Unfortunately, the strut was well and truly jammed in there and there was no way that simple flesh and bone were going to move it without help.

Studying the layout of the hallways and their position within the ship itself, Allen smiled grimly and stepped forward, holding out his hand.

“Your sword if you would be so kind.”  Everyone stopped their futile struggling against the strut to stare at him as if he’d lost his mind.  Suspicion practically radiated from Dilandau and Vega, while Van watched him with wary curiosity.  It was the king who finally nodded his head and drew his sword, handing it hilt first to the knight.

Taking a moment to examine the blades quality, Allen sent a silent prayer up to the gods for the steel to be good enough to hold up under the strain and then drove it upwards into the edge of an already loosened ceiling panel.  The three onlookers all winced at the sharp squeal of steel on steel, but watched curiously as he began to twist and rock the sword back and forth, further loosening the panel.

“What are you up to Schezar?”  Dilandau asked warily.  “You’re hardly going to be able to dig them out like that.” 

“We’re under the cooling pipe for the levistones.”  The knight replied, giving the sword another sharp twist and likely ruining the edge beyond repair.  While he loathed the idea of ruining any sort of decent blade, Allen was relieved that it wasn’t the royal sword of Fanelia he was currently manhandling into junk.

“Yes, I know that.”  Dilandau spat back defensively, though the knight was rather sure that he hadn’t actually realized that until just that moment.  “But, the ship is powered down.  There isn’t any coolant flowing to the stones.”

“No.”  He agreed.  “But there will likely still be enough left in the pipe to spray the strut.”

“…and the frozen metal will contract.”  The dragonslayer finished for him, impressed despite himself.  “I’m shocked that a Knight Caeli would know of something so base as leviship maintenance.”

“Just because Katz and Pyle are the mechanics doesn’t mean that I’m not aware of how all of the systems work.”  Allen replied perhaps a tad too primly.  “Besides, I have to make sure that I’m paying for actual repairs and not secret drinking money for the men.”  He’d only fallen for that once and had made sure to never be fooled again so easily, much to his crew’s dismay.  “Why do you think I was making you learn the systems as well?”  He added in.  “Crusade belongs to the Schezar family.  If anything were to happen to me, it would be yours… and that was not an offer to arrange an accident.”  He hastened to add, just in case Dilandau got any ideas.

“Bah, it’s your ship.  I have my guymelef, that’s all I need.”  The knight didn’t trust the smug smile gracing his sibling’s lips, but now was not the time to call him on it.  No doubt it was simply one more unpleasant surprise waiting in his future.

With a piercing shriek, the panel finally came loose and fell to the floor, nearly missing clipping the knight on the temple.  Its absence revealed several pipes running across the hallway ceiling, though only one was covered in padding to protect its neighbours and minimize temperature loss.

“I’m going to need you to hold onto it Dilandau.”  The knight instructed, motioning to the pipe.  “If it falls once I cut it loose, it could spray us and the liquid inside is cold enough to burn flesh in seconds.”

“Are you sure you trust me Schezar?”  He asked, a silvery eyebrow arching elegantly at the question.  Allen took less than a moment debating on what sort of answer to give him, but in the end, figured that the simple truth would outweigh any flattery he might give about trust and changes.

“I have to.  You’re the tallest next to myself.”  Van snickered at the shocked look on Dilandau’s face, but his laughter stopped when the albino glared at him arrogantly.

“You realize he just called you short.”  The captain sneered imperiously.  Hey, wait a minute, yeah, that meant Allen called him short!  He wasn’t short!  A quick glare at the dragonslayer proved that the two of them were almost able to look each other in the eye now, though Dilandau still had an inch or two on him.  It seemed that he’d gotten a bit of a growth spurt over the past two colours despite the lack of proper food.  He couldn’t wait to see how tall he’d grow now that they were eating properly again.  In another few colours, he’d be the one looking down on that pale haired head and grinning all superiorly! 

“I’m not short.”  He still found himself mumbling despite this silent vow to grow to giant proportions.  “He’s just taking you ego into account with your size.  That makes you as big as this ship.”  His attempted insult fell flat and they both knew it judging by the grin Dilandau shot him as he reached up and grasped the pipe firmly in his hands.

Taking advantage of his own height, Allen made short work of the bolts holding the pipe in place, letting it sag down from the ceiling and motioning for Dilandau to angle it so that the spray would hit as much of the strut as possible.  It took a little work as the pipe was hardly made of the most flexible material, but after a minute of struggle, everything was ready.

As an added precaution, Allen removed his cloak and wrapped it around his arms to protect them from any spray then gestured for Van and Vega to take a step back.  Muttering a soft prayer to Jeture, he swung Van’s damaged sword with all his strength.  For once, their luck held and the blade cut through the pipe cleanly, spraying coolant across the edge of the strut where it pressed against the door.

Within seconds, a thick layer of frost rime spread across the strut, decorating it in elaborate and lethal lace patterns.  The door also received its fair share of spray growing white and sleek, the metal radiating cold as little flakes of snow drifted about their heads.

The pressure behind the spray didn’t last long after the initial burst, but it was enough to accomplish what he’d intended.  The air temperature had dropped sharply enough that he could see his own breath and he allowed himself a slight smile.  Oddly, the others all looked a little unnerved by the frost and the breath.  Vega going to far as to look around then give the two teens a questioning glance.

“Could you not have done that?” She asked the dragonslayer, earning herself a dark glance and an imperious sniff.

“I will not waste my men on something as paltry as opening a door.”  He muttered, ignoring how Van rolled his eyes, biting back a smirk.  “My talents and that of those who serve me are-”

“Shut up a moment.”  Van interrupted, waving a hand in front of Dilandau to distract him from his own self aggrandisement.  “Do you hear that?”  Everyone fell silent, listening for what had caught the king’s attention.

It began with soft creaks and groans which grew almost alarming in volume as the metal began to warp from the sudden temperature difference.  While they couldn’t see it with the naked eye, Allen knew that now was the time to test his theory before the metal warmed once more

Smiling to himself, Allen allowed himself a quick glance at the teenagers before waving his hand at them to resume their attempts to move the strut, this time grabbing hold of the biting cold metal himself and giving a sharp shove.

“Did you just tell me to shut up Fanel!?”  Dilandau growled ominously.  The tone of voice and look on his face would have sent even the bravest of his men running for their lives, but Van stood his ground and pulled at the strut.

“Do you want to be the one to tell Rushah that he’s stuck in that damn room because you were too busy griping and bitching to help?  Pull the strut.  You can try to hit me later.”

“Try!?!?”  Allen winced at how shrill the dragonslayers voice could get when he was appropriately offended.  Still, the goading had the intended response and Dilandau glared at the king murderously, putting all of his pride and rage behind pulling the strut towards him, determined beyond all reason to show up the other teen.

It was difficult for Allen to not smile at seeing how neatly the pale teen was being played, but it gave him hope for their relationship.  As much as it galled him, he was glad that Dilandau had found someone who was his equal.

With both teens throwing their full weight behind the frozen strut along with the combined efforts of Allen and Vega, there was the horrible tooth ache inducing shriek of metal scraping against metal, following by a low and somewhat ominous groan.  Gritting his teeth, the knight refused to ease off despite the warning ache in his muscles.  The woman at his side swore loudly in zaibachi, her words echoed by Dilandau.

When the metal finally gave, it did so suddenly and without warning, skidding across the door with a hideous screech, sending them all to the floor hard.  The two draconians fared the worst, having been pulling the metal strut towards them.  Thankfully, it wasn’t heavy enough to cause any damage, but they did quickly become entangled in each other’s wings, sending up a spray of black and white feathers into the air as they both fought each other to be the first to rise.

Chivalry aside, the knight might have taken a moment to laugh at the strange tableau before him, but the door opened up at that moment and he was confronted with the largest wolf-kin he’d ever seen.

Standing easily a foot and a half taller than the knight, he was much more heavily muscled and bore a rather impressive assortment of scars across his body which spoke of a hard, rough life.  Those massive limbs were clad in an assortment of night black armour of surprisingly good quality and even the sword hanging from his hip looked well forged.  It was an odd contrast to the simple kilt wrapped around his waist, the rough leather travelling pouches.  He also wore an ornate necklace which was made from assorted animal teeth and softly glowing draconian feathers; most likely provided by the two teens currently shedding a fortune’s worth of plumes across the deck. Ignoring their audience, they continued to struggle against each other… at least they’d better be fighting.  This was hardly the place for another talk about propriety.

The beastkin’s bright amber eyes fixed on the knight for a long moment, sizing him up with predatory interest before glancing down at the teens, a hint of a smile crossing his features.

“I figured it would be you two when our injured were suddenly healed.”  He stated in a voice pitched just loud enough to be heard over the swearing of the teens in question.  “Though I am thankful, I would hope that you would have other priorities aside from mating games.”  His freidian was clipped and interspersed with bits of basrami.  The combination sounding alien what with the odd growling quality to his voice.

To Allen’s surprise, the teens immediately stopped their struggling and looked up at the wolfman with gazes filled with delight.  All previous battles forgotten, they quickly got to their feet and smiled widely at the beast-kin, though Dilandau’s grin had more than a few teeth on display.

“Rushah!  You’re alright!”  Van announced, sounding genuinely relieved.  “How badly are people injured?  There’s medical facilities available here.”

“He already said we healed them.”  Dilandau was quick to point out, shooting the darker teen a smug smile.  “You overdid it pigeon.”  Pride filled the dragonslayer’s voice as he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it out of his face. 

For his part, Van just stared at the wolf man in shock.

“Everyone is fine?”  There was so much hope in his voice that it was heartbreaking and Allen felt himself take back every dark thing he’d thought about the young king since their reunion.  The boy might be hard of heart in many regards after what he’d suffered, but he was still a good person who truly did want the best for the world around him.

The wolf man nodded his head and lifted his chin slightly.  While Allen didn’t understand the gesture, both Dilandau and Van’s eyes grew wide with shock at the gesture.  To have such a powerful and proud member of a wolf clan bare his throat was almost unheard of and both stood a little taller at receiving such an honour.

“I take it that such a healing wasn’t planned?”  Mora stepped around his leader and glanced at the two youths with curiosity shining in his old eyes.  “Ah, yes, I can see it now.”  He chuckled softly, reaching out to lightly poke Dilandau in the shoulder.  “You’re practically vibrating with energy despite what you two have already done for us.  I suppose you are to blame for the explosion which shook our ship that final time?”

Now it was Dilandau’s turn to grin in a wholly predatory manner, his wings arching up aggressively behind him.

“They attacked you.  No one attacks my people.  Our packs are one after all and enemies shall be shown no mercy.”

“Packs?”  Allen glanced at the two teens, then the wolf clan, not quite sure he was following the conversation.  At the sound of his voice, the huge wolf man turned and looked at Allen once more.  Though the knight considered himself to be a rather open minded individual, it was still more than a little intimidating to see that mouthful of teeth lining that powerful jaw.  He could easily imagine what a bite from the wolfman would do.

“You would be the human brother to Nakahi.”  It wasn’t a question so much as a declarationfrom the leader, and it took a moment to realize who they were referring to.

“Yes I am.”  He replied, quickly swallowing yet another shock in a never-ending series.  “I’ve been searching for him for some time now.”  The beastman reached out, resting a heavy clawed hand on Allen’s shoulder.  The size and weight were impressive, warning that this man would be a formidable opponent or ally.

“You are a brave man Allen Schezar to name Nakahi as your brother.  Most would choose to distance themselves, yet you have come and sought him out despite the odds against you.”

“Hey!”  The wolf man ignored Dilandau’s indignant cry much the same way Van had earlier, making it obvious that he’d been dealing with the volatile albino for quite some time.  Still, it was hard to keep a hint of a smile from crossing his face.

“Irma and Ignis.”  Van cut in neatly, averting any possible repercussions with a rather skillful topic change.  “I don’t see them in there.  I also don’t see either Antoni or Mala.  Are they alright?”

Now the powerful wolf’s playful demeanor shifted and he gave his head a slight shake.  The much older beast man stepped up, the impressive number of bags strapped to his body making him look much larger and bulkier than he was.

“They went to the bridge when the attack began, believing that they might be able to be of aid.”  He stated in a surprisingly gentle and soothing voice.  “We have not seen them since.”

Both teens shared a weighted glance with each other then took off at full speed towards what Allen could only assume was the bridge.  The knight began to give chase then paused, loathe to leave these people behind when there was the very real chance that they might still require aid.

A gentle hand on his shoulder made him turn around and look at the young woman who they’d saved with their strange magics.

“Go after them.”  She said in zaibachi, offering him a warm smile of encouragement.  “Who knows what trouble they will get into unsupervised.  I can help the pack and my people out.”

Smiling gratefully at her, he quickly took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently yet gallantly.  The look of pleased surprise on her face was a soothing balm to his constantly battered ego and he flashed her a quick courtly bow.

“My thanks dear lady.”  He replied smoothly.  “You are quite correct and you have my eternal thanks.”  Releasing her hand, he then raced off after his errant sibling and *twitch* brother in law.  Sweet Jeture, it was never going to get easier saying that.

This time, he found them under far less dramatic circumstances.  The door to the bridge was undamaged and the crew was doing a quick diagnostic, more concerned with their ship than their own health.  A formidable freidian man wearing the sash of a commodore was overseeing the organized chaos of the moment, barking out orders to the men racing around him and giving room to the strangest quartet Allen had ever borne witness to.

Dilandau and Van were standing off to the side with two adult zaibachi and two teens, all of them speaking in hushed yet weighted tones.  They stood close to the youngsters, almost intimately so and to Allen’s surprise, Dilandau had a hand on each of their shoulders, giving them an encouraging squeeze while Van looked on, radiating pride by the bucketful.

Though just slightly younger than the couple, they were even more exotic than Dilandau in appearance, which was more than a bit of a shock.  In fact, their appearance could be called downright fantastical.

The youth was beautiful and slender, with rich dark brown skin that looked velvety smooth.  His elegant features were fanelian, though his bright yellowish orange eyes had an egzardian cast to them.   Hair the colour of a raging fire hung from his head, seeming to almost cast its own light, someone had taken the time to braid it into various patterns, though the effort was rough and inelegant, the shifting colours made it still beautiful to behold.

In cruel contrast, the girl was more muscular in build, her shoulders were broad and warned of a formidable strength.  She was as monstrous in appearance as the boy was lovely and even if Allen hadn’t already been warned of her shared lineage with the dragon, he’d have seen it instantly.  There was no mistaking the heavy ridged brow, the muzzle-like mouth or the large round reptilian eyes which seemed to stare through you with a glance. 

Her long blue-black hair was gorgeous and utterly out of place as it hung down, loosely held back by a thin strip of cloth.  Skin which should have been a warm golden tan was instead a greenish brown, more the colour of forest moss than anything and he could even make out the telltale diamond patterns across her scaled shoulders.

Most horrifying of all were the wings.  At least he was sure they were wings.  Two long arm-like appendages rose up from her back, tipped with stunted fingers, they were a cruel parody of the beautiful wings of the king and warlord.

Both were dressed in loose fitting freidian robes and armed with swords which hung at their hips, ready for an instant draw and more importantly, both stared at the two older teens with utter devotion and love in their eyes.  More shockingly, it seemed to be reciprocated.

No, there was no doubt about it, these were the “children” of Dilandau and Van.  His niece and nephew if he chose to acknowledge them.  Part of him, the proper astorian noble quailed at the very idea.  It was obvious that neither were human or naturally born.  They were freakish by even the open-minded standards of his own country and would never have a place in noble society, let alone society at large.

Another part of him, and thankfully, the much larger part realized that these children were in fact that.  They were children who had been used and abused just as his sibling had been.  More importantly, they were a part of Dilandau.  A part of himself and his family line.  Blood called to blood and he knew that he could no more reject these two unusual children, than he could Dilandau himself.

It was with this thought, and a welcoming smile on his lips that Allen stepped forward to greet his niece and nephew properly.  Announcing himself with a soft polite cough.

All eyes were immediately fixed on him.  Dilandau’s held a challenging glare, just daring Allen to attempt to reject them.  Van watched with tense silence, hope radiating from every pore, making it obvious how much his acknowledgement meant to his new family.  The girl looked openly curious and almost excited, while her brother was more reserved, though he could still detect the hope in the boy’s eyes.

“This is Ignis and Irma.”  Dilandau was the first to step forward, motioning towards each in turn.  “They’re our children.”  His jaw was tight, his hand resting on the handle of his sword, ready to draw if any insult was given to his brood. 

Keeping his smile of welcome firmly in place, Allen took their hands one after another and gave them a gentle squeeze, unsure as to how familiar to be upon this first meeting.

“I assure you both that the pleasure and honour are mine.”  All four of them looked surprised at his words and the look Van shot him warmed him down to his toes.  “I thank you both for being the light which shines from the darkness of these days and am pleased to name you as part of my family.  Should you choose, the names and titles of the Schezar family are yours.”

Now even Dilandau looked shocked.  He and Van shared a silent glance with each other while the two newcomers beamed in delight.  They likely had no idea what had just happened or the worlds it opened up for them, but being so easily included and acknowledged by a supposed outsider was more than they’d ever dared to hope for.

“They will of course need last names and titles.”  He continued, gently chastising their parents.  Life was going to be difficult for them, especially in the judgemental courts of Astoria.  “Will they have Fanelian titles as well?  Which name will you chose as their surnames?”

“We… we hadn’t thought of that.”  Van admitted somewhat abashedly.  “We were more concerned with making sure they felt welcome.”  That made sense to the knight, but he had long ago learned the value of planning ahead.  A lot of work was going to need to be done before these two would be properly accepted into society.  Their unique parentage was just the least of it.

“My pardon for interrupting.”  The captain edged into their conversation, speaking gently accented Astorian and for some reason earning himself a dark glare from Dilandau for his efforts.  “Our diagnostics are finished and we will be exiting the ship to begin repairs.”  He paused for a moment to give both Van and Dilandau polite, almost reverent bows.  “Thanks to your efforts, we have no medical emergencies.  We are in your debt for that.”

“You returned our children to us.”  Van replied with far more gravity than Allen had ever heard from the young king.  “There is no debt.”

“You healed Ensign Miksa’s leg dad.”  Irma chuckled softly, giving Van a friendly nudge.

“I didn’t do anything that time wouldn’t have done on its own…we just… rushed things a little.”

“He didn’t have a leg.”  Ignis clarified. “He’d lost it in the war.  Now he has it back.”  The flame haired boy pointed towards a young man in his late teens who was still surrounded by several companions, all staring at his leg as he moved it around and gestured towards the wooden fake he’d worn up until that moment.

“Oh… um….”  The king was clearly at a loss for words and honestly, so was Allen.  He’d never heard of healing on this level and even though he’d witnessed it happening, still had no idea how it had transpired.

“You altered fate once again.”  The commodore stated, sounding both in awe and reprimanding all at once.  Van’s face turned bright red and Dilandau flashed his usual trademark grin.

“After what happened in Freid, I don’t understand why you spared myself and my crew.  Should we not be dead… or worse?”  Dark eyes surveyed the two draconians and all chatter on the bridge fell silent as the crew all waited to hear the answer.  They might not know exactly what had happened to their capital city, but they saw the smoke and the terrible unnatural flames.  Their imaginations had filled in the rest.

This time it was Dilandau who answered.  Stepping forward, the dragonslayer captain met the eyes of the commodore.  The weight hanging in the air between them was palpable and none dared to so much as blink.

“You turned your back on your country to save my people, my family.”  He stated calmly.  “You might have delivered us into a trap, but it wasn’t one of your making, and you threw away everything to get them out.  Mistakes happen to even the best of us, it’s how we handle them that matters, and you recovered from yours with honour and dignity.

“While you might not have made any vows of loyalty to us, it seems that our power has acknowledged you as one of us and healed you as it has our own.”  He smiled slightly and extended his hand to the commodore.  “Care to make it official?”

               “You ask me to follow the man who razed my country and murdered my duke?”  Surprisingly, Dilandau didn’t appear at all insulted over the statement, he simply nodded his head.  There was no point in denying the obvious.  Everyone in the ship was aware of his crimes.

            “You’ve earned the right to make the choice without interference from my or my people.  You’re welcome to join us of your own free will as equals among us, or take your chances out there once your ship is repaired.  However, a war is brewing and Basram is well aware that you and your ship are an enemy.  Freid will not protect traitors.  Right now, what you need most in the world are allies.”

            The commodore seemed to think on this and nod his head slowly.

            “Your offer is generous and sound, but the decision isn’t mine alone.  If you would grant us sanctuary here while we repair our ship, I will speak with my men and deliver you our decision by tomorrow.”  Both king and dragonslayer nodded their heads, accepting the offer for what it was, though Dilandau already looked confident of his victory.

            “Sanctuary is yours no matter what your decision is until your ship is built.”  Van replied, the weight behind his words reminded everyone of just who and what he was despite the lack of crown or country behind him.  “And thank you Raj.  Thank you for bringing me my family.”

            Bowing deeply, the commodore stepped back and returned to his men, making sure everyone was ready to leave the ship in favour of their new if possibly temporary home.

            Now that he was gone, Allen had a chance to notice the other two members of the group, the tall red headed zaibachi man, and the slightly shorter dark haired woman.  They were introduced as Lieutenant Antoni and Lieutenant Mala.

            “You’re in luck Antoni.”  Dilandau drawled as he motioned for the group to follow him out of the damaged ship and onto the flying fortress.  “I have a big empty fortress and no one to command it.  How would you like a promotion?”  The man’s brilliant blue eyes all but lit up at the prospect but he kept his eagerness at bay, nodding his head politely.

            “I would be honoured sir.”  He replied in even tones.  “Though I would ask what happened to it’s former crew?”

            “The energist bomb and a crazed doppelganger.”  Van replied rather dead pan, causing both his and Mala’s brows to rise up in shock.  “The old crew is dead and we are seeing to the respectful disposal of their remains.  The doppelganger is quite dead now thanks to Dilandau.” The dragonslayer in question preened at the acknowledgement of his actions.  “It would be stupid to let a flying fortress remain vacant when it is exactly what we need at this moment.”

            Antoni nodded his head somewhat stiffly, hiding his horror at the fate of his fallen comrades well.

            “The commanders quarters belong to Van and I.”  Dilandau was quick to add.  “We’ll still outrank you on this ship, so don’t go getting ideas.”  He shot the taller man a challenging look but it wasn’t needed.  Even Allen could see that he had no desire to move against the volatile captain.

            “Of course sirs.”  Antoni replied quickly with a deep bow of respect.  “Though I would ask permission to question the rest of our group to find anyone with experience in piloting or keeping a flying fortress running, and I would ask that Lieutenant Mala be my second in command.  She’s shown to have a good head on her shoulders during an emergency.  I am more than willing to teach her, and any who wish to learn to control a fortress.”

            “Agreed.”  Dilandau didn’t even have to think about it, though Allen was more than a tad surprised that Van wasn’t attempting to rein him back as the dragonslayer neatly began to take control over what was easily the most lethal weapon on the face of Gaea.  In fact, he looked downright approving.

            “I want engineers as well.  We need to get this fortress up and running properly as quickly as possible.  We didn’t leave Freid quietly, so who knows what’s coming after us.”  The pale teen paused for a moment then flashed a smile at the newly promoted commander.

            “Gather up the others and tell them to choose their cabins, there should be plenty to go around.  Larger rooms are to go to those who are willing to learn and work the more complicated jobs on board.  After that are families.  Make it clear that all positions are needed, from pilots to food prep.  Everyone will have a job here on this fortress, even the children will be found something appropriate.  Work with Vega on organizing a new prospective roster.  I want it in my office this evening.”  He paused for a moment then looked at their own children.

            “I expect both of you to learn a system on the ship as well.   While I fully expect you to be pilots, we’re going to need every available set of hands we can get.   Pick something and learn it to the best of your abilities.  Any knowledge should be sought out when possible.” 

            Both youths snapped to attention, pride radiating off of them at the orders.  Allen would like to say that he was shocked by the abrupt brusqueness of his sibling, but after seeing how he’d interacted with his men, this was hardly surprising… so long as he refrained from abusing his children, the knight wouldn’t get involved.  Of course, judging by the protective gleam in Van’s eye, he wouldn’t stand for such a thing either.

            “Before either of you wander off, go get Kamata settled in hangar Alpha two, It’s the one closest to here and should be empty and closed up from the battle.  He’ll fit there nicely for the moment and we can work on fixing it up for him as we go.  Has he eaten recently?”  Both siblings nodded their heads in affirmation though neither seemed to know where the hangar he’d mentioned was. 

            Van allowed himself a slight smile at the knowledge that he wasn’t going to be the only one needing directions to find anything on this damn maze of a ship.

            “We’ll need maps drawn up.”  The king stated, ignoring the slight arrogant curl on Dilandau’s lips.  “The crew can’t be efficient if they can’t find their way around the ship.”  He shrugged slightly, fully aware that Dilandau had no choice but to agree.  “Vega can assign someone to do that while she’s taking stock of everything.  Though you might want to warn people about those damn walkways.  If they’re not used to these ships, they could get swept off easily.”

            Honestly, Allen was amazed at how well the two were assuming the leadership roles for this rather ragtag group of outcasts.  Between the both of them, they were coming up with reasonable courses of action, and more importantly, he was seeing flashes of the old Dilandau, from before the madness had claimed him.  Here was the brilliant youth he’d been drawn to so long ago.  This was the child soldier who had inspired so many of his countrymen that he’d become a national hero.  More impressively, he was actually sharing the mantle of authority with Van, the two passing it back and forth with surprising ease.

            It gave him a strange and much longed for sense of hope that they might just get through this in one piece. 

            Of course, with all things in his life.  It likely wasn’t bound to last for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Allen, you're such a pessimist. What could possibly go wrong?   
> Next Chapter: Things go horribly wrong!!
> 
> We're now into NaNoWriMo, so the chapters will be flying... hopefully. The next chapter is already written and will likely be posted in a few days. YAY!!!


	26. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van and Dilandau fly those friendly skies, but nothing is ever simple for them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay still recovering from surgery and relearning how to walk again. I'm so pathetic. On the plus side, I have tons of time to write AND I'm not off the narcotic painkillers so yay! My brain is my own once more. Hope you guys enjoy this because these next two chapters I had a blast writing!

“We shouldn’t be in here.”  Van murmured, glancing around nervously at the hulking figures of the guymelefs.  Even knowing that they were powered down didn’t grant him much comfort.  They were surrounding him on all sides, looming out of the shadows and it brought up far too many memories.

            “It’s your fortress Van, you’re the king.  Who’s going to stop you?”  Dilandau chuckled in amusement as he reached out a hand to lightly stroke the leg of one of the metal monstrosities.  A blissful sigh passed his lips as his fingers trailed over the cold metal, sending a thrill of pleasure along his spine.  They might not be his own advanced models, or even the Oreades, but there was still something erotic about the war machines.  All that killing power contained in a simple shell.  The flames, the claws, the swords… sweet fate, he could almost envision pulling an enemy apart.

            His free hand reached out to stroke along Van’s spine, pulling the darker youth closer, allowing him to wrap his arms around that trim waist until their bodies touched. 

            It would be a lie to say that he didn’t enjoy his lover’s discomfiture, the way his eyes kept darting around as if expecting an attack.  Knowing that his wartime predations had left their mark on the other teen acted as a powerful aphrodisiac to the dragonslayer.

            Unwilling to resist his rising desire, Dilandau pulled Van even closer, kissing along that warm throat, breathing in the scent of clear cold skies and lush apples.  He would never get tired of that smell, or the taste of that delectable flesh warming beneath his lips.

            “Allen will kill us.”  Van’s protests were weak as he gasped lightly, fingers reaching up to tangle in silvery white hair.  Unable to help himself, he let his head loll back, giving himself over to the temptation and thrilling at the soft chuckle echoing in his ears even as he continued to stare up at those lethal machines.

            “He’s got to find us first.”  Dilandau argued between kisses, his hands sliding lower, stroking over the king’s smooth rounded buttocks, loving that he was still wearing the wolfkin kilt, leaving himself wholly vulnerable to illicit exploration.  “Allen doesn’t know his way around the fortress any better than you do.  By the time he realizes that we’ve wandered off, we’ll be snug in our cabin, washed, sated, and enjoying a bottle of wine.”

            “But-” Any further arguments were silenced by Van being shoved against the leg of one of the resting Alseides hard enough to make him gasp.  The chill feel of metal against his back caused a momentary flash of panic to tear through the king as memories of an icy table and vicious knives filled his mind, but Dilandau seized his lips in a brutal kiss, his heat driving the cold away.

            The dragonslayer drank in that fear, savoured the worry of his lover and pressed his body against that glorious tanned skin, thrilling at how he could feel the powerful heart beating beneath the muscles of his chest.  Hot breath brushed against his skin as he pulled back for a moment, just long enough for Van to gasp in a desperate lungful of air before his mouth was claimed once more.

That wonderful heart beat faster, the pulse quickening as his kisses deepened, causing Dilandau to moan loudly, his leather gloved fingers sliding possessively over hot flesh.  His tongue delved ruthlessly into the depths of Van’s mouth, lazily exploring the shape of his teeth and tongue, marking his territory with the lazy assurance of an apex predator devouring a kill.

“We… we can’t.”  Van all but whimpered when he was given the chance to breathe once more.  “The anchor….”

“Do I look like I care?”  Dilandau growled softly, nipping at Van’s lower lip lightly before grabbing one of the king’s hands and pressing it against his aching groin.  Moaning softly, he rocked his hips, smiling in victory as he felt Van’s fingers stroking him through the leather despite his protests. 

“Do I feel like I care?”  He pressed onwards, his free hand grabbing onto Van’s hair and pulling his head back to further expose that delectable throat.  Hips still rocking against that strong hand, he began to lightly bite his way up the length of that smooth tanned column of flesh, savouring each tiny tremble and gasping breath.

“I... I promised Allen.”  Sometimes Van’s stubbornness was adorable, but this wasn’t one of those times and Dilandau bit him harder just beneath the ear, causing the king’s protest to dissolve into a rather high-pitched squeak.  It would no doubt leave a mark for all to see later, loudly proclaiming to all that they had indeed misbehaved despite any vows to the contrary. 

It served that fluffy haired ponce right as far as Dilandau was concerned.  He had no business deciding what the two of them could and couldn’t do with each other.  They both outranked him after all, and besides, he was their prisoner.  Prisoners didn’t get to make demands of their captors.

“I didn’t promise him anything.”  He replied smoothly as he tilted Van’s head towards his, silencing any further argument with another deep hard kiss.  Teeth clashed against each other and he could taste the hint of blood from a bitten lip, but didn’t care.  Van was his!  They belonged together and sweet fate, the feel of that power sliding through them both was beyond intoxicating.  He wanted to push it, see how far it could take them.  He wanted to feel their bodies and souls become one in a perfect blistering union of body and soul!  The prudish expectations of one sexually repressed knight wasn’t about to stop him. 

“This is my choice.”  He growled out when they finally broke for air, gasping softly, their lips still lightly brushing with each breath.  The energist light spilling from his eyes was reflected in Van’s, causing them to glow faintly and sweet fate, it was one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen.

“Our family is safe, people are safe because of us.  We defeated our enemies and scattered their ashes across the sky.  Don’t you think that we deserve our reward?”

As he spoke, he resumed tracing his lips along the king’s neck, the tip of his tongue tracing along the nerves, teasing them to greater sensitivity.  As inhuman as they were, not even Van was able to resist the sweet temptation the dragonslayer offered and Dilandau smirked as he felt the last of his resistance crumble. 

Those dark kiss bruised lips whispered his name over and over breathlessly like some holy mantra and Dilandau moved in to claim his prize.

Pressing the king harder against the leg of the guymelef, Dilandau slid his hand beneath the thin kilt, tracing the smooth flesh of his lover’s ass, pulling him closer even as he met him with a slow and languorous roll of his hips.  Their groins pressed against each other, flesh sliding across leather and the king cried out softly in desperation, his hands fumbling for the clasps of Dilandau’s pants.

It amused the dragonslayer immensely knowing that there was no way Van was going to achieve his goal.  Zaibach uniforms were notoriously complicated to unfasten, especially when one’s mind was on other things.  Wolfkin kilts on the other hand were laughably easy to remove, and he demonstrated this with a quick twist of his wrist, letting the cloth fall to the floor at their feet.

Drawing back for a moment, he took in the sight and splendour of King Van Fanel, naked and utterly wanton, braced against the leg of an Alseides, wings trembling delicately.  It was an image he wanted to sear into his mind forever and sweet fate if it didn’t almost make him cum in his pants just to see.

 _Ah Folken, if you could see your little brother now…_ The only thing that would have this more perfect was if it was his own Alseides Van was writhing against.

The very thought made him moan out loud and his eyes flutter closed as the near overwhelming surge of pleasure that tore through him.

His momentary distraction was all Van needed to turn the tables and strong fingers grabbed onto his shoulders, nails digging into the leather, causing it to make a sound so much like a human moan that it was uncanny.  Before Dilandau realized what was happening, he found himself spun around and pushed up against the guymelef with Van pressed up against his back neatly between his own wings, hard enough to practically force the air out of his lungs.

“You like your little toys that much do you?”  Van purred menacingly, his lips inches away from his ear and causing another surge of wild desire to shoot through Dilandau’s groin like lightning.  Dammit, he’d forgotten about the bond, that Van could feel what he felt.

Speaking of feeling, there was no mistaking the steel hard erection being pressed against his backside.  Worse, with every press of Van’s hips, it ground Dilandau’s own shaft against the guymelef, making him shudder and bite his lip hard to keep from crying out.  Sweet Fate, Van might act like a blushing virgin, but once he let himself go, he was a glorious beast and Dilandau couldn’t help but respond to his hunger.  In moments, he was panting hard and pressing back against his lover, a series of soft and needy moans escaping his lips.

“Unfasten your damn pants.”  Van ordered in that cold and uncompromising voice that always thrilled Dilandau right down to his bones.  “I’m going to fuck you like this and you’re going to beg me for more.”  He’d created a monster, a beautiful vicious and uncompromising monster.  If there was a heaven, Dilandau was pretty sure he’d just found it.

His hands were moving before he even realized that he was obeying and made short work of the clasps and buckles which held his pants closed.  The instant the last one was unfastened, rough hands pulled them down, exposing his bare skin to the hangar.  Dilandau gasped loudly, the sound growing guttural as he felt the molten hot shaft press against him, practically searing his flesh as his need became an all-consuming desire.  It contrasted perfectly against the icy cold metal which pressed against his aching cock.  He felt delirious with sensation, his body trembling hard as he struggled not to climax from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Lube Dilandau.  I know you have some on you.”  The voice was still right by his ear, Van making any large movement impossible as he continued to press the pale youth against the unforgiving machine.

“P…pocket.”  He gasped, his head spinning wildly, his hips rocking back feeling the tip of Van’s shaft brush across his entrance in teasing promise.  “Right breast pocket!”

Strong hands yanked his jacket open, popping several buckles, not that either of them cared at this moment.  Van took a moment to caress his bare chest, scratching Dilandau hard across the abdomen and earning himself a loud and desperate cry as the dragonslayer bucked against him hard.  He was more than a little surprised at how responsive the pale teen was at this moment.  He’d meant this as little more than a game, reminding the proud captain that he wasn’t the only one with power in their relationship.  Still, he wasn’t going to argue with how wild with passion he was.  Seeing Dilandau so utterly undone was something he was going to cherish for a good long while.

Finding the lube exactly where he’d said it was, Van smiled and reached down between Dilandau’s legs, giving his cock a playful squeeze as a reward and smiling at how he could feel it trembling, ready to explode at any moment.

“I rather like you so compliant.”  He murmured into a pale ear, favouring it with a teasing lick.  “Are you imagining that you’re in the cockpit?”  As he spoke, he poured a generous amount onto his penis, hissing softly at how cold it was on his heated skin.  “Can you feel the controls in your hands?  Your fingers on the trigger?”  As he spoke, he could see Dilandau’s fingers flexing, stroking the metal leg the way one would a lover, goaded by his words. 

He gave a few quick swipes of the thick slick liquid across that searing trembling entrance to Dilandau’s body, his fingertip toying with the tight muscle teasingly.

“Answer me.”  He ordered, giving one of those perfectly muscled buttocks a sharp slap, causing the dragonslayer to jump slightly and yelp before biting his lip and swallowing the sound, his cheeks glowing red in mortification.  “Are you imagining all the damage you could do?  How powerful you are in the pilot seat?  Are you thinking of fire?”  The last word was moaned out and Dilandau trembled violently beneath him, his eyes glowing brilliantly, lit from within by his desire.

“Yes!  Oh sweet fate yes!”  He gasped out loudly, his fingers stroking the leg, caressing the metal shamelessly.  “Mmmm, the feel of the trigger, seeing my target in the crosshairs… the heat of the flames and the kiss of the crima metal…”  His voice trailed off as he licked his lips, the action purely sensual and making Van shudder.

“Please…”  Dilandau whispered, begging Van with every fiber of his being.  “Please fuck me!  I need you!”  Sweet gods of Gaea, this moment couldn’t get anymore perfect as far as Van was concerned.

He kissed the back of his lover’s neck, enjoying the silken brush of his hair before taking hold of it and pulling Dilandau’s head back, forcing him to look up at the looking war machines he was so attached to.  The same instant, he pressed himself forward, sliding himself into that tight silken passage with slow careful movements.

The sound that came out of Dilandau’s throat was incredible.  So wild and guttural, it seemed to reach into some primal part of Van’s brain, calling out to his primitive alpha male side and making it beat its chest with its fists as it screamed out “MINE” to any challengers.  He’d never felt so perfect, so utterly in control of everything around him.

The deeper he slid into that perfect passage, the stronger the feelings grew.  Energy surged along his spine and down his wings, electrifying each pinion until they felt like they were on fire.  It arched through their bodies as they began to move with slow rolling thrusts, each one creating a wave of power, a slow rolling tsunami arching away in ripples of light.

He couldn’t see anything beyond that perfect body pinned beneath him, couldn’t hear anything beyond those animalistic cries.  Bereft of the constraints of civilization and culture, they’d been rendered down to their most base essence and growing in volume.

There was nothing beyond their writhing bodies, nothing beyond the sensations they shared and the building pressure which threatened to consume them both. 

When one final sharp thrust brought him fully sheathed in that perfect body, piercing Dilandau to his core, he felt something burst deep inside them both.  It was brilliance, shattering them both from the inside out as white-hot flames danced along his bones, searing muscles and tendons in one glorious flash before it tore free of their physical bodies.

Long fingers of energy raced up the legs of the guymelf and the energist buried within its shoulders flared into life, bathing the hangar with purple-red light.  One after another, the rest of the guymelefs in the hangar burst into life as the energy leaped from one machine to the next, creating a blinding curtain of light.

Purple lightning danced through the air, causing the energist torches to flare brilliantly growing brighter as the two thrusting bodies moved faster, lost in desperation, their cries drowned out by the roar of power swirling around them.

It caught itself in the circuitry, blazing through the hundreds of connections which made up the nervous system of the fortress and spreading out, bolstered by the countless energist scattered throughout the ship, each one activating and blazing with a light greater than they’d ever seen before.

Still the power grew, wild and unchained, seeking the core of the ship, setting it alight.

 

The lights of the Medbay flared brilliantly, nearly blinding Geesha as she worked on closing the stitches on an engineer’s leg.  For a moment, she thought it was her own vision acting up.  Too many long nights studying research notes and testing her various machines, or perhaps a symptom of vetch withdrawal.  It was only when Regis cursed softly that she took a step back and reassessed the situation.

All of the energist lamps were flaring up burning off far more energy than should be possible.  Off to the side, the computer terminals were also humming loudly, their screens glowing in a worrisome manner.

“An overload?”  Regis asked her, stepping away from one of the terminals just in case it began sparking.

Looking down at her arm, she noticed how the fine hairs were standing on end, while her feet detected growing vibrations within the heart of the fortress as the dormant engines came online.  It should be impossible…but then again, so many impossible things had come to pass recently.

“Take over here.” She instructed her apprentice, handing him the surgical needle and thread.  “I need to check my instruments.”

“Another fate alteration?”  Cautious excitement filled his voice at the idea of being at the center of such an historic event.  Despite the aftermath of horrors they’d seen, he still held a certain naïve innocence towards such things, as if he believed deep in his heart that his hero wouldn’t truly hurt him.  Geesha was under no such illusions.  They could all very well die horribly in the next five seconds.  However rather than panic, she desperately wanted to use those remaining seconds to study her precious readouts.  Knowledge was all that truly mattered after all, and this was a once in a lifetime opportunity… possibly quite literally.

 

Allen stood on the bridge with Antoni looking at a large map which had been projected onto the table at the center of the room.  Several men and women bustled about around them, sorting out the functionality of the ships systems and familiarising themselves with their new stations.  There was a palpable tension on the bridge which came from being in a room full of people, none of which were yet comfortable in their positions.

He was surprised at how many of the former slaves had stepped up, either having had past experience with the massive leviships, or being willing to learn.  Four members of the Freid crew had also come forward, willing to lend their knowledge of leviships to the cause, embracing their vows to work alongside their former enemies.  Most surprising however were the two wolfkin who’d volunteered to learn the complicated systems.

Allen had expected to see them beaten down for their audacity.  After all, the Zaibach Empire was notorious for their ill treatment of beastkin. 

Instead, they were greeted with smiles and welcome.  One of the Fried crew offering to act as an interpreter for their instructions.

The bodies had been cleared away in short order, each one laid out respectfully in a side room for the crew of Allen’s ship to take down to the furnace room for disposal.  It seemed that cremation was in order, it being the simplest way to handle large amounts of dead within the confines of the ship.  Their remains would be stored in marked jars until they could be returned to their homeland and given proper honours.

Mala had spearheaded the cleanup effort and was now moving amongst the new crew, helping to answer questions and sort out mechanical issues where she could, leaving Antoni free to sort out their next move.

“Our best course is to return post haste to Astoria and present King Fanel alive and unharmed.”  The commander stated, speaking zaibachi since Allen followed it well enough.  “They’re no doubt blaming Captain Albatou for their disappearance and if we head anywhere else aside from Fanelia, this will only convince the rest of Gaea that we’ve kidnapped him.”

Allen nodded his head, not bothering to ask why Fanelia wasn’t a viable option.  He knew damn well how the people would react to a floating fortress appearing over their capital city… or at least what was left of it.  Van would be arriving to a full-blown panic and many of his people would likely be badly hurt before the truth was sorted out.   No, Astoria was the better choice.  Of course, convincing Van of that fact might not be so simple.

Speaking of…

Allen glanced around the room.  He could have sworn that the two of them were poking around some of the consoles a few minutes ago before he’d started going over the map with Antoni.  Where had they wandered off to?

“When was the last time you saw the Captain or King Fanel?”  He found himself asking and received some satisfaction in seeing the tall redhead grow pale in dread as he spun around, looking frantically for the missing teens.

“Dammit, I swear those two require leashes and bells!”  He swore under his breath, giving voice to what Allen was uncharitably thinking.  “Can’t they stay in one place for more than a minute?”

“When did you last see them?”  The knight asked again, pondering pulling one of the beastkin away from their task and getting them to track down the two youths.

Antoni shook his head and ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly.

“Half an hour ago at least.  They could be anywhere by now.”  That was a colossal understatement seeing as how they could both fly.  For all they knew, they could be perched at the very top of the fortress like demented gargoyles.

“We need to find them before they cause something to explode.”  Yes, it was a harsh thing to say, but their past record spoke against them in this regard.  If anything, Antoni grew even paler, his eyes widening with worry.

“That’s not what should be our greatest concern.”  As if to bolster his point, several of the crew cried out in shock as the energist lights began to flare brilliantly.  The surrounding computers hummed ominously and several previous powered down machines burst to life, filling the bridge with noise and lights.  Allen spun around, fearful of what might be causing this chaos, but Antoni grabbed for the ship radio, yelling into the microphone.

“Everyone, brace for turbulence!”  Pulling the device away from his mouth, the commander growled.  “Can’t they keep their pants on for a few hours?  Bloody teenagers!”

“WHAT?!?!”  Anything Allen might have added was but off by a brilliant burst of light.

 

 

Lord Dryden Fassa, Heir Apparent of Astoria was having a bad day.  He’d been pouring over reports on the first harvests since dawn, trying to work out how to stretch the meagre pickings to sustain not only his own country, but to aid their allies as well.  So far it wasn’t looking good, and that was being optimistic.  Grain shipments were at half their usual levels, fruit in the south was rotting on the vine due to the lack of workers to pick them, while the north where most of the fighting had taken place was stripped bare, leaving them to try to make due with stunted and withered things.

It had been a bad year in Freid for rice given that their country had been all but razed to the ground, and now this latest tragedy at Godashim… 

Clenching his hands tightly into fists, Dryden leaned back in his chair and looked over at his faithful clerk.  As if sensing the eyes on him, Menchin uttered a nervous squeak, clutching the pile of documents he was holding tightly to his chest.

“S…sire?”

“Menchin, have the tests come back on that glowing fruit by the bomb site?  We’re going to need anything edible we can scrounge this winter, and there’s a decent stockpile just sitting there.”

“N…no sir.  While initial tests prove that the food is harmless, we haven’t looked at long term effects… or the fact that most people will be hesitant to eat something that glows.” 

“Hmph, picky eaters.  Wait till they’re hungry enough and anything will sound tempting.”  He sighed in irritation and glanced back down at his reports.  “Can we get someone up there to pick them just in case?  We’ll dry them and use them as a last resort if need be, but I’d rather take the chance than just sit there and watch perfectly good food rot on the vine.”

“Sire… King Aston will not approve of this.  He doesn’t trust anything that close to the Zaibach border.”

“Well King Aston isn’t going to be the one starving in the street this winter.”  Dryden snapped despite himself.  “I’m not going to sit back and let people die senselessly.” 

Seeing the shocked look on his assistant’s face brought the heir up short and he took a deep breath, forcing himself back to his usual calm.  It had been a long day, a long week, a long colour.  One emergency piling up on top of another until everyone in the palace existed in a state of low-level panic. 

They needed something to go right for them before things truly began to fall apart. 

A brilliant flash of light filled the sky, drawing their attention to the window by Dryden’s desk.  For a moment, he had the wild thought that Basram had finally chosen to make their move by dropping one of their energist bombs on the palace itself, but the light faded in moments, leaving in it’s place a shining pillar of light which stretched to the heavens.

“Please be Hitomi.”  He murmured softly to himself as he leaned out the window, as if that extra foot would give him a better view.

The light pillar narrowed, sputtered, then faded, leaving in its place, a new worst-case scenario that Dryden would never have dared dreaming up in his nightmares.  A Zaibach floating fortress hung there suspended above the city, casting its shadow upon the palace walls like the hand of death reaching out to claim them all.

Menchin let out a petrified squeak and fainted dead away, while all around him, Dryden could hear bells being sounded as the guards were called to arms.

No, nononono!  They didn’t need this!  Why would Zaibach choose to break their truce?  Where had they been hiding that damn thing?  What did they hope to accomplish with this sneak attack and how in Jetures scaled hide had they managed to create a pillar of light?!

“Sire!”  There was a pounding at his office door and moments later, several Knights Caeli poured into the room looking as if they were prepared for war itself.  “We’re moving the Royal Family to a safer location.  Please come with us.” 

Nodding his head, he took a step forward then paused and looked back at the looming fortress, his eyes narrowing.  Something wasn’t right.  Why hadn’t they released their guymelefs?  There was no point in just hanging there looking imposing.  They had to know that Astoria would retaliate. 

Jetures scales, even now he could see the leviships in the harbour rising up into the air, moving into position to attack the intruder and drive them away.

“No.”  He replied, turning away from the knights and moving towards his window once more.  “Something isn’t right.”  Glancing over his shoulder at the lead knight, a Sir Laurentian, he motioned him over.  “Get me a radio connection to the Sea Dragon.  I want to know what is going on up there.”

“But sire.”  Sir Laurentian protested in confusion, glancing over at the other two knights for backup.  “You’re supposed to join the royal family.”

“My duty is to Astoria first.”  He replied, glancing down at the ring Millerna had placed on his finger, rather proud of how steady his voice sounded.  “I will serve our kingdom better by finding out why that ship is here and what it wants.”

“Clearly they’re here to attack us sire!”  Sir Levis, a burly brown bearded knight spoke up, clutching at his sheathed sword, eager to draw it.

“Then why haven’t they?”  Dryden asked, his question was met by silence from the knights.  “Exactly.  Now, get me to a radio connection… and someone help Menchin to a couch.  We can’t leave the poor man just laying there.  Someone will trip on him.” 

He watched as the knights conferred silently with each other, trying to figure out how to appease the obviously insane royal, while still following their duties in keeping him safe and well away from any danger.

“There’s a radio in the catacombs beneath the palace isn’t there?  Where that old scholar lives?”  He asked pointedly, remembering the old man who’d been helping Albatou translate the sorcerer files for them.  “Scholar Inverness wasn’t it?  Take me to him.  I’ll be safe enough even from a direct attack and none would think to find me there.”  As he spoke, he began to walk in that direction, fully aware that there was no time to waste. 

This was clearly a situation where there was more than met the eye, and they couldn’t afford to make any mistakes at this point.  Any loss would prove to be irreparable in the face of upcoming war.  While he loathed to lose sight of the upcoming confrontation, he knew that having an open line of communication was much more important.

Thankfully, it took a surprisingly short time to reach the door to the catacombs and the guard lazing by the door snapped to attention, his jaw agape at seeing the heir and three Knights Caeli stalking towards him with clear purpose.

“Step aside my good man.”  Dryden stated with more cheer than he felt.  “I have business with the scholar.  Do go and fetch us some wine will you?”  He didn’t even slow down as he brushed past the guard and headed down below.

It had been some time since he’d been down here and he had to admit that the man was about as eclectic as he himself was.  Only instead of books and oddities from around the world his fascination seemed to focus mainly on Zaibach and their strange technologies. 

Bits and pieces of their alien technology covered every available surface, several even hanging from hooks on walls, out on display for further study.  He could easily imagine Albatou spending time here, drinking in the familiar sights, pretending that he was back in his adopted home rather than in what he likely still perceived as an enemy country.

“Ah, Heir Dryden, always a pleasure.  I was expecting you.”  The old scholar toddled out from behind what looked like the arm of an slseides guymelef.  He had several reams of paper in his hands and a quill balanced behind his ear, dripping ink down the front of his robes.  “Come come,”  He gestured expansively towards the depths of his cluttered rooms.  “The machine began acting up a few minutes ago you see.”  He shuffled through a doorway and into a lab filled with strange boxlike contraptions that looked like they belonged on a rather expensive leviship and an odd inverted pyramid device which glowed and flickered ominously.  The panels beneath it shrilled out various warnings, their dials waving back and forth wildly.

“The young captain had pointed out that I should keep an eye on this device, but he didn’t say why.  There’s been the odd beep and strange light coming from it lately, but just a short while ago, this happened.  I’m not sure why, Lord Folken never explained the intricacies of his machine, only that it was tied to reading fate energy.  He was using it to monitor Zaibach you see.  Clever man, very clever.”

Dryden wasn’t even going to try to understand what half of the things in here were intended for.  All he wanted was a radio which was strong enough to contact their flagship, or Jeture willing, the flying fortress itself.

“A radio.”  He stated, not seeing one amongst all the strange devices filling the room.  “Do you have one?”

“Ah,” The scholar cackled in delight.  “I have several.  Folken restored several of them and was planning on outfitting some of our longer-range scout ships with them before his passing.  I have one over here, it’s from the Vione and in wonderful condition.”  He reached down to grab a rather heavy looking box covered in various wires.  The device was clearly far too heavy for him to lift so Dryden motioned for the knights to help.

In moments, they had it up on the table.  The scholar fiddled with several of the wires, fitting them into various sockets before popping open a small casement and placing a green energist chip inside.  Snapping the casement shut, there was an audible click, then the machine lit up from within.  Several dials began to move almost immediately, giving readouts which made little sense to Dryden and likely even less to the knights. 

It also let out the most god-awful squeal any of them had ever heard, forcing them to cover their ears or risk going deaf.  Honestly!  It sounded as if a swarm of demons were trapped inside the damn thing!

Giggling like a child with a new toy, the scholar was the only one unaffected.  Instead of protecting his ears, he instead picked up what looked like a small strangely shaped dish and handed it to one of the knights. 

“Here son, hold this.”  He instructed, then proceeded to raise the bemused knight’s arms up a little higher and twisted his hips.  The shrieking seemed to change with the man’s movements, becoming less of a screech and more like voices.  He could almost make out what they were saying! 

Another knight was handed a wire wand and also instructed to hold it aloft while the scholar muddled around with the dials.  It screeched horribly several times, but then, suddenly, transformed into human voices.  They were muddled slightly and tinny sounding, but he could understand them!

“-ose in trespassing into Astorian territory.  Identify yourselves, power down and prepare to be boarded.  This is your last chance to surrender!”

“For the last time, I’m King Van Slanzer Fanel!  We’ve come in peace and have no intention of harming anyone here but we will not surrender and be boarded.  We are allies!  Dammit Dilandau, shut up about the damn flag!  You’re not helping!”  The last bit was distant, as if Van had turned his head away from the microphone.  He likely hadn’t intended to broadcast that last bit, but it did bring a hint of a smile to Dryden’s face. 

King Fanel had survived, as had Captain Albatou.  It seemed that all wasn’t lost, and it appeared that they had one hell of a story to tell.  Dryden merely had to ensure that they lived long enough to share it.

“How do I connect with their ships?” He asked the scholar, picking up the microphone attached to the side of their own radio.  “Will this work if I talk into it?”

“Yes yes,”  Scholar Inverness nodded his head, happy to help.  “Merely push the button with your thumb when you wish to speak, and remove it when you do not wish the others to hear what you say.”  He gave the radio a fond smile, likely more than a little amused at the unintentionally overheard comment. 

“Well, here goes… everything.”  Dryden took a deep breath and then pushed the button.  Praying to Jeture that he was doing the right thing and not making matters worse.  “Good afternoon Van.  You always know how to make an entrance!”  He couldn’t help but grin as he pictured the shocked looks on the faces of those on the other end.  “…It’s Dryden by the way.”  He added, just in case they weren’t sure, then wanted to kick himself for losing points on his awesome entrance into the conversation.

“Dryden!?”  He could hear Van’s relief despite the static and his smile grew a little wider.

“Heir Fassa, there’s no need for your interference.  We have this well under control.”  The commander of the Sea Dragon stated, his voice crisp and clipped with annoyance.  “We shall deal with the intruders accordingly.”

“Commander Vespa.”  Dryden stated, letting his voice harden with authority.  “You will stand down until I order otherwise.  King Van Fanel is a long-standing ally of Astoria and while his entrance is… unconventional, it is no less welcome.”

“Sir that is a Zaibach Floating Fotress!”

“Yes, I’d noticed.  Thank you very much Commander.”

“The use of floating fortresses has been outlawed as per the reconciliation act of the Destiny War!”

“Again, a fact I’m well aware of as I helped draft that very act.  Now stand down Commander.  I will not repeat myself a third time.” 

He waited in tense silence for the response, hardly daring to breathe, and he knew that Van was likely feeling the same way.  The knights all shared another silent look with each other, making Dryden wonder if perhaps they had a secret language which consisted of timed blinks or some other such thing.  They certainly spent enough time with those weighted looks.

“We will stand down Your Highness, but we will not retreat.  We await your orders to escort the Fortress to a safe location where it will be boarded.”

“We will see any boarding as a hostile act.”  Van quickly bit out.  “We will leave our ship and speak to you, but none may set foot upon it without our leave.  There will be no negotiating on this matter.”

Well, that was more than a little surprising.  He’d never heard the young king sound so steadfast on a decision.  It seemed that there was quite a bit for them to catch up on.

“None will board your ship.”  Dryden assured his friend.  “You have my word on that King Fanel.”  There was no harm in keeping things on an official level.  “If you would please anchor just beyond the city walls, it would likely make our soldiers rest easy.  Shall I expect you at the palace within an hour?”

“Make it an hour and a half.  I have a few things to settle on my end.”  He sounded more than a little uncomfortable with that statement, making the heir wonder if perhaps their little sudden arrival hadn’t been planned at all.  This was certainly going to be an interesting reunion indeed.

“Who shall I expect in your entourage?” 

“Myself, Captain Dilandau Albatou ni Schezar, Sir Allen Schezar, Lord Regis Falafell, Sibille of Zaibach, Vega of Zaibach and Chief Rushah of the Red Paw clan.”  More than one person gasped in shock at the guest list and Dryden couldn’t help but whistle softly.

“Quite an interesting crew you have there, Van.  I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

“Oh, believe me, you’re going to hear more than you likely want.”  Van sighed and there was a worrisome weight to his words.  “We’ll be arriving in a zaibach leviship and landing in the harbour.  Please clear a section for us and keep the guards back.  We’ve… just please keep them back.”  Again, there was far more not being said there and Dryden shot Sir Laurentian a level look.

“Agreed.  The guards will be kept back.  The zaibachi contingent will be expected to remove their weapons upon entering the castle.”

“No deal.”  Van replied coldly.  “You either trust us all, or none of us Dryden.  Dilandau and Sibille stay armed.  It’s non-negotiable and when you hear our report you’ll understand why.”  Sweet Jeture, he knew he was going to regret this….

“Alright, but they’re on your honour Van”

“Understood… and Dryden?  Thanks.”  The king sounded far too tired for his seventeen years.  Whatever had happened, and whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be good.  Suddenly, Dryden found himself wishing that he was just sorting out winter stores for his country.  It was likely going to be less of a headache.

“Thank me afterwards.  King Aston isn’t going to like this.”

“No… no he won’t.” 

Putting down the microphone, Dryden turned to the knights who were still gaping in horror at what the heir had just agreed to.  Yup, he was going to get a strip torn off of him by Aston, but deep down inside, he was positive that he’d done the right thing.  All he had to do was convince everyone else of this.

Yeah… no problem.

“Notify King Aston of what just happened.  I want the informal hall cleared for the meeting.  Honour his request to keep the guards back.  I want them watching and on hand, just not blatantly visible… and bring wine.  If Albatou is going to be there, we’re going to want some on hand.”   
            “Anything else sire?”  Sir Laurentian asked somewhat stiffly, not liking this decision one bit.  Well tough for him. 

“Yes.  Notify Gaddes and Palos that their charges are back.  I’m sure they’ll both be relieved to hear it.  Oh, and Van’s little cat girl.  She’ll likely be lurking around Gaddes at this time of day.”  Well, at least three people were going to be happy about this sudden turn of events.  As for everyone else?  Only Jeture knew.

 

Palos sat in his chair staring out the window, his nurse Miriam, quietly humming as she worked on some needlepoint off to the side.  His throat still hurt, his voice was still a shadow of what it used to be, but every day saw a slight improvement.  Granted, it was slow going, and he longed for the days when he could stride freely about the palace without a care.  Now, a walking cane rested next to his chair.  Carved from good sturdy wood, it was necessary to help his shaking legs carry him about his room without falling.  So far, he hadn’t dared to move beyond that.

If only he could run again.  He would race beyond the palace walls, past that dreaded floating fortress which hung above the edge of the city like some ominous portent of doom, reminding everyone who dared raise their heads of much worse times.  Times when the city burned and the cackling of a mad child’s laughter echoed over the screams of the dying.

The messenger had just left, bearing the news which would no doubt condemn him to the executioner’s block.  King Fanel had returned, bringing with him not only Zaibach’s pet demon, but a horde of other beasts and monsters, each one likely slavering for revenge.

He was on borrowed time and could feel his heart beating frantically against his ribcage, a clock counting down the seconds remaining to his life. 

“Relax my lord.”  Miriam murmured from where she sat in her chair, tying off a stitch with casual calm.  “This changes nothing and all will be as it’s supposed to be.”  Smiling warmly at him, she stood up and fetched him a cup of cool water, placing his reed straw in it before carefully resting it in his trembling hands.  “Calm yourself.” She repeated, cupping his hands in hers and looking him in the eye.

For a moment, her façade of gentle and caring warmth fled from her face, leaving a cold and uncaring soul in it’s wake.  She stared at him for a long moment, her shining blue eyes hard as steel and as welcoming as a sword’s edge.

“If you cannot comport yourself properly, I fear your health might take a turn for the worse.”

Palos’ breath caught in his throat as he stared at her in naked horror.  He’d known that he was expendable the instant he’d felt that sword slice against his throat.  No… to be honest, he’d realized it the moment he’d been given that cursed bottled of wine, but he’d held onto some small shred of belief that he might still live to see this through, to be able to find some way to redeem himself.  That cold look and even colder threat erased all of that like a sand drawing during rising tide. 

He was nothing but a convenience.  The instant he ceased to be that, he’d be dead.

“Your orders have not changed.”  Miriam continued, gently reaching up and brushing a lock of hair from his face with deceptive tenderness.  “Reports indicate that they have no knowledge of your treachery.  Remain close to them, keep their trust.  There will be another chance to strike.  We merely need to be patient and watchful.  And you will be watchful for us won’t you my lord?  You will watch and report like a dutiful Astorian.  A true hero.”

“Yes… a hero.”  The words tasted like ash on his tongue.  He knew exactly what he was, and it shamed him deeply.

Looking back out at that floating fortress, he couldn’t quite resist trembling at the thought of what it contained within its cold metal and stone walls.  He’d betrayed the children hidden within once, and it had cost him everything.  Did he dare do it a second time?  Did Jeture spare him for this cruelty, or could he perhaps find some level of salvation?

He continued to stare up at his doom, cup of water in his hands, as Miriam quietly resumed her stitching, humming her soft happy song as if nothing was wrong with the world.

 

 

“How could the two of you be so utterly irresponsible?!”  Allen fumed, stalking back and forth as he glared at the two teenagers who stood in front of him, clothes askew, the marks of their tryst clear for all to see on their skin.  Van looked ready to melt into the floor, his wings drooping low to the ground as he refused to meet anyone’s eyes.  Dilandau on the other hand met the knight’s glare with one of his own, his dark wings held high and aggressive, not willing to give an inch of ground in the face of his brother’s wrath.

“This is how you’ve been creating your Zones of Absolute Fortune?  By carrying on like drunkards at a brothel?  Do you have any idea the danger you’ve put this entire ship in?  King Aston will be furious!  You’ve put the entire navy on edge with this entrance and you could very well have torn the ship apart!”

“You will NOT speak to either of us in that manner!”  Dilandau snapped out, his hands balling into fists as he took an aggressive step forward towards his brother, ready to defend them from further slander.

“I damn well will Dilandau!”  Allen shot back.  “Thanks to your irresponsible actions, we’re now in Astoria and by order of the king I’m your superior officer while within our borders and you damn well will listen to me if you want to stay out of a cell!”  The dragonslayer flinched back at his words as if struck and this time Van squared his shoulders and stepped forward in his lover’s defense.

“We didn’t mean for this to happen Allen.”  The king argued.  “We can’t control what happens when we’re… intimate.”

“Rutting like animals in the guymelef bay is hardly intimate!”  Allen practically spat, spinning around to glare at Van.  “I wouldn’t even expect such actions from a common soldier, let alone a king and a nobleman!  This is hardly proper courting behaviour Van.  You’re disgracing your future bride!”

“Hey, I am NOT a bride!”  Dilandau shot in, practically bristling.  “I’m his Husband and it’s Van’s Fortress!  We can fuck where we damn well please!”  Allen slapped his forehead with his hand in exasperation while Van’s jaw dropped and he turned to stare at his lover, shocked that the other teen had admitted it, let alone done so so openly.

Realizing what he’d just said, Dilandau froze and glanced somewhat nervously over at Van, not sure if he could bring himself to meet his lover’s eyes.  Rather than scorn or worse, triumph, instead, the king stared at him as if he’d just been given the most precious gift in the whole of Gaea. 

“Do… do you mean that?”  Van asked, sounding almost scared that he’d misheard that precious admission.  Suddenly nervous, Dilandau glanced quickly around the room, wishing he could take those words back, yet at the same time, feeling a swelling of pride at being able to cause those beautiful dark eyes to light up.

“…That we could fuck where we damn well please?  Of course I did, and I intend to.”  For someone purported to be utterly fearless in battle, he certainly wasn’t putting his best foot forward at this moment.  Thankfully, some good fortune seemed to be clinging to him, because Van didn’t look the least bit offended.

“Idiot.”  The king smiled at him.  There was no heat in the word, in fact, Dilandau had the distinct feeling that it was being said in a good way, so he chose to allow his ego to let the insult pass.  Warmth flowed through their bond, equal and ever burning, warming them both to their souls.  Words didn’t matter in the end.  They were too easy to misunderstand.  What mattered was what they felt, and that, it seemed was never going to be a mystery.

The rest of the crew watched in absolute silence, entertained by the scandalous drama being played out in front of them while simultaneously being scared for their very lives.  After such a display of accidental power, none of them wanted to see either of the draconians provoked.

Several cast pleading looks at Antoni.  Being the commander of the ship, it was technically his duty to keep control of the bridge, and everyone could see that things were rapidly spiralling beyond control.

Taking a deep breath, the commander stepped forward, choosing to address Allen first, seeing as how he was likely the most sensible of the trio by far.

“Sir Allen, they do have a point.  This ship is property of King Fanel, to do with what he wishes.  Though I would advise perhaps more discretion in the future, he’s done nothing wrong.”  The knight fixed him with that furious glare and the commander was more than a little impressed at the fierce strength of will he felt behind that gaze.

“I have seen the power they can call up for good and ill and despite the… current awkwardness of the situation, it is perhaps for the best.  Every energist on this fortress is operating at max capacity, in fact, most of them are operating well beyond that and the crystal structures are holding.  All of our systems are back online at full power and we have saved ourselves nearly two and a half weeks of travel time.  Seeing as how time is of the essence, this could mean the difference between victory and defeat.  Let’s not forget that in suddenly appearing in Astoria, we have likely thrown our enemies off balance.  They have not had time to adequately prepare any traps for us, not to mention, it is a sound demonstration of our power.”

Allen continued to glare at him, his jaw clenched tightly as he listened to the man, taking in the advantages cited and seeing the ways that this had put them in a superior position, but that didn’t mean he was willing to back down.

“There are certain proprieties which are expected to be met.”  He growled.  “I will not have my brother be treated like a second-rate slattern!”

“I am NOT second rate!”  Dilandau snapped.

“Sir Allen, I assure you that their actions have in no way shamed either party.  We are all well aware of their relationship as well as the commitment they hold to each other.  While their choice in location leaves much to be desired, their actions are acceptable.  I would however humbly ask you both to please confine your personal activities to more private locations and more convenient hours.”

Honestly, this was not what Antoni had expected to be dealing with as his first act as commander.  What made it more mortifying was the fact that he knew damn well that this likely wouldn’t be the last.  The captain had quite the reputation among the ranks of Copper Army and while he knew that most of it was simply overblown camp gossip, there was likely more than a few grains of truth.

“I don’t see what the problem is.”  Irma spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at her “parents” in irritation.  “They have sex all the time, this isn’t anything new.  What I want to know is why you’re not having Ignis, Kamata and I join you in heading down to Astoria.  What is something happens again?  How will we know?”

Everyone was quick to jump onto the change of subject, save for Allen who looked as if he was nowhere near finished with his lectures.

“Irma,” Van stepped forward, gently resting his hands on her shoulders and smiling at her warmly.  “I’d love nothing more than to have you both at my side… maybe even Kamata too.  But we don’t know what our reception is going to be like.  King Aston is a clever man and will try to use everything he can to manoeuvre us into a corner.  I want as few people as possible there to fuel his fire.  Also, if anything does go wrong, I want to know that you and your brother are safe up here, well away from Aston’s reach.”

“If anything does go wrong, you’ll know.”  Dilandau added in somewhat ominously.

“We are not going to blow up the palace.”  Van grumbled.  “If things go badly, we run.  No one gets left behind and we will keep damages to a minimum.”  He shot the dragonslayer a warning look.  “We need Astoria to win this war remember.”

“So long as Aston remembers that he needs us as well.”  The pale teen huffed, his wings tucking in against his back with a snap.

“It’s our job to remind him of this.”

“Speaking of.”  Sibille chimed in, looking utterly amused over the entire matter.  “The two of you should have a quick shower and a change of clothes if you wish to appear to be at all presentable.  Right now, the two of you stink of sex and look like you just got buggered by an infantry squad.  Now, if that’s the image you’re going for…”  She let her voice trail off as Van’s cheeks turned brilliant crimson and he made a half-hearted attempt to straighten his kilt which in his haste to dress, had been put on backwards.

“I would suggest separate showers, or we’ll never make it there in an hour and a half.”

“Sibille…”  Allen murmured, still rubbing his temples.  “Please shut the hell up.”

 

 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”  Regis murmured as he glanced out the window, noting the rather large number of guards on duty at the gate to the palace.  Actually, there’d been a rather open presence all over the city, a result of their rather sudden appearance and unusual mode of transportation.  Several Astorian leviships also hung in the sky, surrounding the fortress yet remaining at a respectable distance, ensuring that the threat of their might wasn’t forgotten.

Dilandau looked out the window at them, a frown darkening his features as he noted the distinctly hostile positioning.

“Antoni has his instructions.  If they get within five hundred costa of the fortress, he’s to open fire.”

That seemed to perk both Allen and Sibille up.  Both of them shared a glance with each other, then stared at the captain.  Both Vega and Van shared secret smiles with Dilandau who practically preened at his own malicious inventiveness.  Rushah, being the wise and noble soul he was, kept his opinion to himself, knowing from experience that to allow himself to be dragged into this was madness.

“But… Flying Fortresses don’t have weaponry, let along anti aircraft weaponry.”  Sibille stated, not sure if she really wanted to know the answer.

“Normally you would be correct, and that’s something we’re going to be fixing by the way.  If our enemies have flight capable guymelef, which we know they will, then I’m not leaving our base of operations undefended. As it so happens though, we seem to have a surplus of overcharged energist on board, and several of them are small enough to be fitted to a crossbow bolt and fired at approaching ships.”

“That’s….”  Allen was simply at a loss for words, while both Regis and Sibille looked strangely intrigued by this idea.

“Why should Basram have all the fun?”

“That’s utterly dishonourable!”  The knight sputtered out, sickened and horrified by this, more so by the fact that he seemed to be the only one in opposition to the idea.

“Crossbows are hardly feasible in the long run though.”  Regis murmured thoughtfully, going so far as to reach into his jacket and pull out a small notepad and stylus pen, jotting down some calculations in sorcerer shorthand.  “At most heights you would find a fortress at, the ambient winds would throw any bolt off course.  You’d require heavier artillery and a stronger firing mechanism to cover the distance between ships.  Five hundred costa isn’t tactically sound.”

“I know right?!”  Dilandau perked up, sliding over Van’s lap to sit next to the young lord and snatching the pad from his hand, followed by the pen.  “But we’d need something that also has the abilities to puncture hulls, which was why I thought about the energist.  It burned the metal as well as causing impact damage, so it required less force behind it.”

Van tuned the two warmongering teens out and smiled at Allen, gracing him with a slight shrug.

“You know that Basram is likely working out the same problems.”  He stated simply.  “They fired on the Bhaagi from their leviship after all, causing significant damage.”

“It’s dishonourable to kill an enemy and never see their face.”  Allen couldn’t help but grumble, remembering his own aversion to the endlessly identical alseides and their faceless pilots.  “One should always be able to see who they’re fighting, to know them.”

“Honour is for duels Schezar.”  Dilandau replied from where he and Regis were bent over the pad, scribbling down details for some new murderous toy.  “In wars, you go with what wins.  The victor can afterwards decide how honourable they were when they retell their tale.”

“Easy for you to claim.  You have no honour upon the battlefield.”  The knight grumbled despite himself, only realizing what he’d said too late.  Rather than be upset over the insult, Dilandau simply grinned at him, saluting him with the pen.

“And who won every battle they led?  Not you.  The ones against Van don’t count by the way, we figured out how he cheated and he owes me a rematch.”

“Hey, I never agreed to a rematch.”

“You know it’s going to happen Van, accept the inevitable.”

“Must we discuss this?”  Allen cut in before the two teenagers could begin to bicker like children.  “We should be planning how we’re going to be dealing with King Aston.  This will be the second time Van has broken protocol and simply appeared in a foreign capital city without prior notice.”

“Third time.”  Dilandau added in helpfully.

“Van!”

“None of them were planned!  It’s not my fault!”

“Fine… three times you’ve broken royal protocol…”  Allen rubbed his temples as he spoke.  His headache had been near constant since they’d been reunited and it was showing no sign of letting up.  “And you have no control over these power bursts?  Or are they merely limited to… ahem…”

“To when he fucks me like a wild beast?”

“Dilandau!”

“Dilandau!!”  It was hard to tell who sounded more scandalized, Allen or Van.  The albino in question simply snickered and his grin only grew wider when he noticed how brilliant Regis was also blushing.

“No, you can rest easy.  It’s not only when we fuck.”  Sweet Fate, he was never going to get tired of seeing how appalled Allen looked when he said that word.  “It also happens when we’re in danger or utterly pissed off.”

“We’re doomed.”  The knight moaned softly to himself, leaning back against his chair and thinking of all the ways they were going to be executed.

“Have some faith in us Schezar.  Fate owes us a few easy wins after what it’s put us through.  Aston needs us and he knows it.  More than ever now.  Basram is poised to attack, they have their altered fate soldiers, better weapons than we possess and somewhere in the castle, there’s a traitor.”

That seemed to get Allen’s attention and he turned to look at his brother intently.

“A traitor?  Do you mean to say that you know what happened to you that night?”  Both Van and Dilandau shared a glance then shook their heads in perfect synchronism.

“No.”  Van replied, his voice bitter as he clenched his hands into fists.  “I remember flying around the parapets with Dilandau, talking on the rooftop… after that, things get pretty fuzzy until I’m waking up in that ships brig.”

“Pretty much the same with me.”  Dilandau replied.  “Except I don’t really remember the trip to Basram, or much of my first day there.  I was drugged rather heavily.”

“So, what do we tell that pompous windbag you call a king?”  Sibille grumbled, liking this situation even less than Allen.

“Well, for one, you don’t get to speak.”  The knight replied, noting to himself that perhaps there was a silver lining in this mess after all.  “Van will be the one speaking for us seeing as he’s a king and his warship is currently docked outside the city.”  


  “Even if he’s dressed like a dancing girl?”  Sibille remarked, sparing Van a level stare, drawing attention to the fact that he was still wearing his beastkin kilt.  As expected, the king turned a brilliant crimson and attempted to adjust the length of the garment, trying to pull it down a little lower to cover his knees.

“I rather like it.”  Dilandau helpfully added in.  “It’s easy to move out of the way when you-”

“It was either that or a zaibachi uniform.”  The king silenced his lover with a sharp jab of his elbow.  “I figured this was the less offensive choice seeing as how we all arrived here.  Also, King Aston is rather adamantly opposed to Zaibach in every way shape and form.  He’d see a uniform as an open provocation.”

“So then why is Dilandau still wearing one?”  The harridan couldn’t help but ask.

“Because he’s an asshole.”  The king sighed.  He’d spent the good part of their dressing time trying to convince his partner to wear something less confrontational, but as Dilandau had pointed out, his only other option was his own wolfkin kilt, and after his time in the dungeons of Freid, it was far from acceptable.

“Our lives are in your hands Van.”  The Knight Caeli replied, offering his friend a wan smile which faded quickly as he noticed how the youth seemed to have gone noticeably paler at that statement and he shared a rather nervous look with Dilandau.  In a surprising gesture, the dragonslayer actually reached out his hand to take Van’s in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Second time is the charm?”  He offered, though his accompanying smile was hollow.

“I won’t let them separate us.”  Van stated, his voice heavy with emotion as he reached up with his free hand and pulled the dragonslayer closer.  Placing a tender kiss on his forehead, Van ran his fingers through pale locks of hair.  “Never again.” 

No one said a word as they watched this intimate and very private moment between the two.  Allen wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the fact that Dilandau wasn’t pulling away at the loving gesture, or the fact that it was blatantly obvious that the fierce war lord was quite legitimately terrified.

 

 

The meeting room was filled with guards, mostly Knight Caeli, which likely wasn’t a good sign.  They practically formed a wall between the king and his “guests”, each one glaring coldly down at them, hands resting on the hilts of their swords, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. 

King Aston sat atop his throne, staring down at them all from the raised dais it had been set apon and the man looked far from pleased.  Next to the throne stood Dryden, his face impassive but his eyes practically shining with questions.

The heir’s presence was likely the only good thing that Allen could think of as he knelt on the floor, staring at the rich carpet beneath his hands, wishing that he could raise his head and study the expressions on the monarch’s face. 

At least Dilandau had knelt without any provocation, though he could see the tension in that lean body and could only guess what such an act of submission cost him.

Behind the two siblings stood Regis, Sibille, Vega, Rushah and Van.  The three zaibachi had bowed politely from the waist, followed half a beat later by the wolf kin who was taking his cues from them.  Van alone remained standing tall, merely nodding his head respectfully to his fellow king.

They’d been kneeling in silence for nearly five minutes, waiting to be acknowledged while the king simply stared down at them, idly stroking his mustache and studying them to see who was the weakest link.  It was a strategy Allen had borne witness to many times in the past, though never from this position and he had to admit, it was more than a little nerve-wracking.

“This is twice now King Fanel, that you’ve appeared within the heart of my country without any warning, bringing with you rather… disturbing elements.  Few kings would be as forgiving as myself considering our long allegiance.”  He paused for a long moment, his dark grey eyes resting on Dilandau, studying the high-strung youth, fully aware of the toll this interview was likely taking on his nerves.  “This is also the second time a zaibach flying fortress has docked within the boundaries of my city.  I need not tell you how that last visit ended.”

“Twice now I have visited your city and had my visit cut short due to kidnapping from within the walls of the royal palace.”  Van returned, his voice hard and direct.  For a moment, Allen could almost picture King Gaou standing there in his place, powerful and sure of his strength.  “As for the fortress, it does not belong to Zaibach, but to Fanelia by rights of salvage.”

Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath as King Aston stood up, glowering down at the young king who dared to defy him.

“By right of… The armistice banned the use of any floating fortresses and demanded their immediate destruction.”  King Aston growled ominously, his fingers clenching the armrests of his throne hard enough that his nails turned white.  Undaunted, Van continued to watch the king, refusing to back down so much as an inch.  In the past, he’d always bowed down to Astoria, acknowledging their strength and his country’s desperate need for their resources, but no longer.  He’d learned the hard way exactly what he had to lose and couldn’t take that risk.

“The armistice specifically states Zaibach floating fortresses.  As I have already made clear, King Aston, this one is property of Fanelia.  It was found within Fanelia’s borders by myself and Dilandau.  The crew was already long dead and we fought the beast which had killed them.  It is now populated by those who have sworn themselves to me and they are fully prepared to defend themselves.”

“And you Lord Schezar.  What do you say of this?”  The king glared down at Dilandau, fully remembering the animosity between the two youths, expecting the albino to use this opportunity to cause problems for his rival.

“It is as he says King Aston.”  The dragonslayer replied with forced calm.  “I was injured and unconscious.  King Fanel sought shelter from an oncoming storm and located the fortress floating derelict within the southern border of Fanelia.  When we entered, all of the former crew were dead.  It is indeed property of Fanelia by right of salvage.”  The look he received from the king was murderous to say the least as he looked at this as an act of betrayal, despite the fact that both teens had the law on their side.

“And you enter into my court wearing the uniform of a zaibach officer?”  King Aston continued.  “Bearing arms in my presence and accompanied by zaibach soldiers?” 

“I felt that it was better than entering into your presence naked Your Highness.”  Dilandau stated, his voice devoid of any apparent emotion, though he did flash a look in Van’s direction.  As usual, he was falling back on old habits, using snark and aggression to cover up any discomfort.  Van could practically feel the smirk radiating through their bond. “If you find my uniform offensive, I can remove it Your Highness.”

None dared to call the bluff.

“He is armed because he is part of my retinue.”  Van cut in before Dilandau could push his luck too far.  “As a king, I am within my rights to have an armed escort.  Sibille and Vega are also part of that retinue.”  He didn’t bother mentioning either Allen or Regis seeing as how the knight Caeli and the son of an ambassador held their own special rights within the Astorian court.

“We’ve come to you in good faith King Aston, returning despite the fact that both Lord Schezar and I were poisoned within these very walls and kidnapped.”  He paused for a moment, watching the king levelly.  “I trust that the culprits have been found and brought to justice?”  They all knew damn well that nothing had been done in regards to an investigation.  Not when they’d had such a convenient scapegoat in the form of Dilandau.

Now it was the king who looked uncomfortable as he sat back down and glanced quickly over at his heir, as if hoping that the man would have some handy answer to give.  Dryden simply gave him a minimalist shrug.

“We… had suspected Lord Schezar of the incident.”  The ruler hedged carefully, nervously stroking his moustache.  “Your shared animosity is the stuff of legends and it was within his rooms that this crime occurred.  His sword was bloodied and a royal messenger was found with his throat slit, while the blade of Fanelia remained clean.  It seemed to be a simple enough affair.”

“I look forward to reading the investigation report in full.”  Van stated tightly through gritted teeth.  “Though I assure you that if Lord Dilandau and I fought, my blade would not be clean.”  He knew that he was getting a dark glare from the albino, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off of the other king for a moment.  “As it is, we were kidnapped by mercenaries and handed over to General Tseng of Basram.  He held Lord Dilandau and I for over a colour, torturing us and experimenting on our bodies, seeking to recreate zaibach’s most despicable experiments.  With him were two sorcerers.  A Lord Zane Shroden and a Lord Salzar.  They were acting with the permission of their government and I can promise you, we were not their only captives.  I saw prisoners from every country on Gaea, and I assure you that death was a mercy for all of them.”

“What you claim is an act of war on the part of Basram against both Fanelia and Astoria.”  Aston glowered at the young king, his voice dripping with warning of future consequences.  While they all knew it was coming, the man still didn’t want to believe that it was already knocking at his front door.

“I’m well aware of that King Aston, as are they.  They are preparing for war and are willing to go to any appalling length to achieve their ends.  I will forever bear the scars upon my mind and body from what they did to me within their labs, but I will not stand by and allow such evil to continue.  I am willing to fight Basram and have pledged Escaflowne and all of my countries resources to do this.  Are you willing to do the same King Aston?”

Again, there was silence.  None dared speak or even so much as move.  Aston continued to stroke his moustache nervously, seeking some way out of committing himself to such actions.  He was well aware of the military might of Basram as well as his own countries precarious situation.  Van could well speak of war because as far as he was concerned, the young king had nothing to lose.  Fanelia was still teetering on the brink of disaster.  They could only gain from a war and its spoils, but Astoria could survive the coming storm if they were clever about it.

“This is not the sort of thing one rushes into.”  He stated, speaking carefully and weighing every word.  None were surprised by his decision, or his evasion.  “I will speak to you and Lord Schezar as well as my council before I make a decision regarding the fate of my country.”

“And in the meantime, is Lord Schezar free of all charges regarding my kidnapping and the assault upon the messenger?”  Van pressed, not willing to leave any loose ends which could be used against him.

“Yes, yes of course.”  Aston laughed, it had a rather forced quality which fooled no one.  “He’s reinstated to his previous positions and is expected to continue his training of his regiment as soon as possible.”

“On one condition Your Highness.”  Dilandau raised his head, watching the king levelly, hardly bothered by the man’s scowl at his impertinence. 

“You push your luck Lord Schezar.”

“I merely seek what is best for Astoria.”  The dragonslayer replied smoothly.  “I wish to be given full autonomy over who I allow within the ranks of the alseides units.  Many of the knights presented to me will be a danger to themselves and those around them.  I can train them not to die in their machines, but little else.  I wish your permission to seek out those who I believe will be able to best serve this country with their skills.”

“You insult the noble born who have bravely come forward to fight under my banner in your damnable machines?”

“If you do not wish perfect success, then by all means Your Highness, deny me this.  King Fanel and I have seen what is coming.  You ordered me to best serve Astoria and that is what I seek to do.”

King Aston glared at the teenager for a long moment, loathing the mere sight of his pale form clad in the uniform of the enemy.  He knew the boy was up to something, that there was a plan in his devious half mad mind, but his request was sound, and there was nothing stopping him from halting and disbanding whatever little band of misfits he created.  Still, he couldn’t back out of the deals he’d made with various lords seeking to curry favour with the crown.

“You will continue to train the noble lords you’ve been given.”  He stated, leaning back in his throne.  “You will do so to the best of your abilities.  If you wish to train a second unit alongside or in your spare time, you are welcome to do so, so long as you do not grow lax with your main duty.”

There was no hiding the flare of triumph in the boy’s eyes.  It set the king on edge as he struggled to figure out just what this pale little freak was planning.

“Your rooms are as they were, barring some intense cleaning.  You are welcome to them.  Sir Allen, King Fanel, I would have words with you both in private.”  They all knew a dismissal when they heard it.  Van and Dilandau shared a quick glance with each other as the dragonslayer stood up.

 _: I can wait by the doors for you.:_   Dilandau murmured mentally, still loathe to leave the king’s side for any reason.

_: I’ll be fine.  Sibille won’t let anyone touch you.:_

_: Well, not until she gets her pound of flesh from me first.:_   Van had to chuckle softly in acknowledgement of that harsh fact.

 _: Get them all settled in the rooms next to ours and check both our rooms.  I want to make sure there’s no surprises laying in wait.:_   He could feel the dragonslayer’s dread at the separation and hoped that mentioning the fierce woman would remind him that he wasn’t going to be alone.  Vega and Sibille would protect him like lionesses with their cubs if that was required.   More importantly, Rushah would treat him as his own pack mate, and woe to anyone who attempted to hurt the albino when the fierce wolfman was nearby.

It actually said a lot about Dilandau’s current state that he didn’t even argue that he didn’t need babysitters.  The scars in his psyche ran deep, and recent events had only made them worse.

 _: We can’t trust him.:_   The pale teen pressed on nervously. _: He’s a coward and will sell us out if he can just to avoid conflict.:_

_: Agreed, but he knows how bad he looks over this whole mess.  I think he’ll be working hard to keep his bejewelled hands clean.  We know to keep our guard up now, and between the two of us, we’re rather formidable.:_

_: We thought that before and look how it turned out:_   It was hard not to wince at that comment, but Dilandau had a point.  Still, a lot of things had changed in that short period of time and they’d both done a lot of growing up.  Anyone trying to come after them now was in for a lethal surprise.

 _: We’re different now.:_   Van replied, his mental thoughts cold and deadly as black ice _.: If anyone raises a hand to either of us or tries to drive us apart, your dragonslayers won’t get a chance to destroy them.  I won’t leave enough left to curse.:_

 _: Fuck, I love it when you’re ruthless.  Once you get back to your rooms, I’m shoving you against the wall and sucking you off until you scream.:_   Heat flared through the bond and Van could help but smile slightly at the ever-mercurial moods of his lover.  Not that he minded at all, but now he couldn’t wait for this damn meeting to be over.

_: Deal, now go.  I’m sure he’s going to want to know all about our adventures and I plan on ensuring that even he has to admit that Basram needs to be stopped.:_

_: Good.  Just… can you not mention the bits about Shroden and I?  I’m not ashamed… I just don’t want the fat pervert to be beating off to thoughts of it later.:_

_: And there goes my sex drive… thanks.:_  Van snarked, but allowed Dilandau to feel the wave of reassurance through their bond.  _: It’s not his business.  I won’t tell him, or Allen.:_

_: Thanks… that helps.:_

 

 

“These rooms are huge!”  Vega exclaimed as she looked around herself, in open awe of the opulence around her.  After growing up in the premanufactured housing of the Capital, this was beyond mind blowing.  Neither Regis nor Sibille were similarly moved, but Dilandau has the feeling that Sibille was just better at hiding it.  Granted, she never came off as the type to want fancy quarters, she likely saw them the same way he did, as useless extravagance.

“Hmph, gilded cages are still cages.”  Rushah grumbled to Dilandau in the wolfkin tongue, his language skills not up to par to speak with the rest of the group, even if he could now understand some of it.

“Hot baths and flushing toilets.”  The dragonslayer pointed out to him, only to earn an unimpressed huff from the beastkin.

Like Dilandau’s room, it was a large single room with a gorgeous bed which Vega had currently flopped over onto, showing a rather surprising lack of discipline, though seeing as how she wasn’t military raised… and had been through a lot recently, the young captain was willing to let it pass.  There was a rather finely carved wood table and matching vanity on one side, and a sitting area for entertaining company on the other.  A large fireplace decorated the sitting area wall and there was a large glass window leading out onto the balcony. 

For some reason, Dilandau found himself staring at the balcony suspiciously, a cold shudder of dread inching through him the longer he looked at it.  There was nothing wrong with it, other than the strategical nightmare it presented, but there were currently no lurking assassins or any such annoyance.

“Everything alright?”  Sibille asked, stalking over to him and glancing at the balcony.  “Well, that’s just asking for problems.  Fuck, it’s no wonder why these pansy assed losers have such a problem with kidnapping here.”  She sneered, then paused as she noticed Dilandau stiffen at her words.

“…they came in through the window.”  He murmured more to himself than anyone.  “I saw them… I raced for my sword… but everything was spinning, the floor moving beneath my feet.” 

Vega grew quiet and walked over to them both, glancing warily at the door.  Sibille looked at Dilandau, then the door.  Walking over to it, she opened it up and stepped out onto the balcony, looking around.

“Poison huh?  I thought you were supposed to be too tough for most poisons.  Didn’t you used to brag about that?  In between convincing my men to drink venom tainted shots with you?  Four of them ended up in the med bay from that stunt by the way.” 

Dilandau didn’t reply, but Regis walked over, having heard her statement and glanced at the window warily.  He made sure to keep clear of the large beast man.  It was one thing to room with Cassian, the cat was his size, snarky and acted more human than any beastkin he’d ever met.  This wolfman was nearly twice is size and looked strong enough to punch through a horse.  He also didn’t look happy about their living arrangements and that made the zaibachi youth more than a little nervous.

Doing his best to act nonchalant, he glanced over at the tense captain, then the windows, trying to picture what had happened to take the fierce youth down.

“If the madoushi were behind it, they would have tailored the poison for him.  I’ve seen notes on ingredients and dosages required.”

“Planning on drugging me Regis?”

“Nope, working on a counter to their little cocktail.”  The young lord replied without a moment’s hesitation.  “If they’ve used it before with success, they’ll use it again.  I prefer to stay ahead of our enemies and out of your way.”  That earned him the faintest hint of a smile from the dragonslayer, though the balcony door continued to hold the majority of his attention.  He just couldn’t shake the image of those dark figures opening it up and stepping through, drawing their swords as they approached… knowing that he was going to lose.

“You’re in the room next to us, right?”  Sibille gave him a light punch in the shoulder to get his attention, forcing him to actually look at her rather than sort out his jumbled memories.  Knocking her hand away roughly, he sneered at her, idly wondering if he could take her in such close quarters before she opened up an artery.  Not likely.  She was an expert at dirty fighting.  He should know, she’d taught him more than a few moves over the years.

Nodding his head, he held onto his temper.

“Yes, you and Vega will share this room.  Rushah will get the one opposite me.  Van is across the hallway in the Royal guest quarters.  Regis, I expect you in your barrack and ready for afternoon practice.”

“Actually.”  Sibille smiled, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I was more trying to work out how they got in rather than sleeping arrangements.”

“I didn’t hear or see anything unusual when we came in… at least I don’t think… We were drunk… I think.  Things are a tad fuzzy.”  As much as he hated giving such useless information, it was all he had at this time to share.

“Gasp, you?  Drunk?  I’m shocked beyond belief, you alcoholic little cumstain.  Do you know who’s staying in the rooms above yours?  They likely came down on ropes.”

“Not a clue, but the steward would know.”  Sibille grinned at that.

“Excellent.  As your newly appointed chief of security, I will of course require a list of such individuals and a map of the palace.  Seeing as how the local guards have proven themselves to be inept at keeping you out of trouble, it will fall onto my weary shoulders.”

“Chief of security?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did you already have someone in that position?  Because I’ve seen the shit you and your fuck toy get into.  They suck at their job.”  Dilandau’s hand lashed out with the speed of a striking snake to slap the woman for her impertinence, but she caught his hand in hers and grinned at him, a knife in her other hand pressed lightly against his abdomen.

“You’re painfully predictable, just like your brother.”  The dragonslayer didn’t so much as flinch despite the sharp prick of the blade.

“Don’t call Van that.”  He stated in a flat voice, his very calmness hinting at the severity of the warning. 

“Well aren’t you all head over hells for the little prick.  Or is he not so little?”

“Could we perhaps not bait each other?”  Regis sighed, stepping between the two of them and gently pushing his mother away.  He didn’t dare lay his hands on the captain, which was likely for the best.  Besides, Rushah seemed to have him well in hand, interposing his muscular bulk between the two antagonists and all but shoving the much smaller captain away. 

“If you’re serious about being his chief of security, I’ll get a hold of the steward for this wing.  I think it’s Alonzo or something like that.”  The young lord continued.  “I’d also suggest that you speak with the captain of the guards so he won’t get his panties in a bunch if he see’s you skulking around.”

“Great, show me to him now.  I refuse to waste time when the security here is so utterly appalling.  I’ll have a report on your desk in the morning Albatou and I expect you to abide by my protocols.  No flying off and fucking your fanelian stallion in the guymelef shed without conferring with me first.  I intend to know where the two of you are at all times from now on.  No exceptions.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”  He waved his hand idly at her, barely listening to her concerns.

“I mean it Albatou.  We’re in enemy territory and they’ve already fucked you over once.  You wanna go back to those labs again?”  That got his attention and he spun around to glare at her.  Undaunted, she met his glare with one of her own.  “No sneaking off without notifying me.  You’ve got lives depending on you now.  Time to act like the elite officer you are rather than a spoiled teenager with too much time on his hands.”

“You wanna hold onto my prick when I take a piss too?”  He sneered, stalking towards the door, having had more than enough of this conversation.

“No, I know where your cock has been.  Get some sleep, you have a long day tomorrow by the sounds of it.”

Dilandau paused at the door, favouring her with another glare.

“Regis, I expect you at the guymelef shed at 0600 hours tomorrow.  Be ready to work.  But before that.  I will be holding afternoon practice.  Fate knows what sorry shape the regiment is in after this long.”  With that, he slammed the door shut behind him.  Regis sighed wearily and looked over at his mother.

“You just had to drag me into this didn’t you?”

“Shut up spawn.  I just got you some alone time with your idol.  Try not to drop immediately to your knees to suck his cock.  Show a little decorum.”

“…I love you with all my heart.”

“Before you two wander off to terrorize the guards.  Did any of you hear how long it was going to be before Van got finished with that meeting?  I didn’t understand a word of what was being said, they talked to fast.”  Vega sat on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for all the verbal sniping to finish before speaking up.  It said the world about her patience, though she did look more than a little amused at watching her superior’s bicker like children.  Refraining from making any comments towards their behaviour, she chose instead to focus on her duties as head of King Van’s staff.  “I want to get his room prepared for him.  I’m sure he’s going to be tired after his meeting… and I’m sure both of them will end up there before the night is through.”

Rushah might not have understood the words they were speaking, but he certainly got the gist of the last comment and chuckled softly to himself at the predictability of young mates.  At least they seemed to transcend all species barriers.

Leaving the zaibachi contingent to their planning, he left the room to go stand outside of the little wyvern’s den where he would be of the most use.  It was his plan to wait until Van showed up and took over guardianship of his troublesome mate, then he would investigate his own little cage in this fortress of traps.

 

 

Dilandau stepped into his room and took a deep breath, familiarizing himself with the scents and feel of the room before stepping across the threshold.  As expected, his eyes were immediately drawn to the balcony doors and he shuddered as that feeling of dread once against slid through him.  Half seen memories flickered through his mind, none of them staying long enough to make sense before fading back into the murky depths of his mind.

 _A wine bottle tipping over, an arm casually draped over Van’s shoulders as they struggle to drag an oversized flag across the room.  The sound of a sword sliding free from it’s sheath, blood spraying across the wall by the bed… no faces, no real clues_.  Dammit, it could be anyone!

A shadow shifted off to his left and closed the door behind him with a sound of terrifying finality.  Dilandau’s sword cleared its scabbard in the blink of an eye, the swing aimed to take the intruder’s head off with a single brutal slice. 

“You’re here.”  The low gruff voice spoke, choked with emotion and longing.  Just two words, but it was enough to set off a series of sparks all through the dragonslayer’s body, causing him to gasp loudly in horror and a sudden overwhelming surge of need. 

His sword clattered to the floor, dropped by nerveless fingers as wide crimson eyes stared at the sergeant who was smiling at him with such joy that it made something awaken deep inside his soul and stretch its twisted wings wide.

“Oh sweet Jeture, it’s really you!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY Dilandau finally got to indulge in his guymelef kink! he's such a happy camper now. It's nice to see Van enjoying himself and expanding his horizons and so much fun to watch poor Allen try to deal with it. The poor man will go bald from stress by the end of the colour.  
> So, King Aston is a jerk, Palos is still in over his head, Gaddes is about to make everything soooo much worse now that Dilandau has finally started to accept his feelings for sweet little Van and I can't wait to see how good ol Merle is going to handle all of this. YAY Chaos!!  
> Next Chapter: There's always consequences for one's actions.


	27. Small Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaddes learns that making wishes with Jeture isn't always the best course of action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay NaNoWriMo! The chapters just keep coming! I'm about halfway through 29 now and will be posting 28 shortly as well. Buckle up, things are about to get crazy as we head into the last three chapters of the book! MUAHAAHH... poor Gaddes

               “Gaddes.”  Dilandau whispered the name, feeling his pounding heart leap into his throat, threatening to choke him.  The world seemed to spin as feelings tore through him, churning everything up in his mind into a muddled mess he couldn’t even begin to sort through.

            Rage… it was the first and most powerful emotion, but right behind it was pain, so much pain from that horrible rejection, from seeing himself fall from being a partner, a lover.. and equal, to some weak and broken thing in the sergeant’s eyes.  He felt like he was back in that cell so many years ago, choking on the darkness and staring up at that single square of light, reaching out to grasp it with his tiny child hands, but having it forever out of reach. 

            He’d given this man everything, showed him everything and he’d been pushed away, thrown back into that cell to await Shroden’s predations.

            All that trust, all that pain… but sweet fate, the sound of the man’s voice, the smell of his body, the way those rough calloused hands reached out to cup his cheek, then grab his arm and pull him close…

            His knees went weak and he would have sunk to the floor if it hadn’t been for those hands.  Crimson eyes closed as he trembled, trying to hold onto who he was, all that he’d fought for over these past two colours of hell.

            “I’m sorry Dilandau.”  Gaddes murmured over and over, stroking silken silver white hair with all of the reverence of a man who’d thought he’d never get to touch it again.  “I’m so sorry for everything.  Please forgive me!”  And with those words, the fierce dragonslayer felt his rage drain away. 

            Forgiveness.  He could give him that, he could please this man.  If he was pleased, he’d be rewarded, made whole, made real.  Of course Gaddes should look down on him, he was a thing, a broken twisted thing but he would make it better.  He would make everything better.

            Lips found his, strong, hot and quivering with tension.  They weren’t the lips he wanted, not deep down.  He wanted that fierce hunger that set sparks alight all through his body.  He wanted the fire of discovery, those beautiful brown eyes that glinted red in their depths, those hands which might hit or caress him depending on their moods.

            His mouth opened, welcoming the kiss, melting against it as he moaned softly, his body knowing what was expected of it, desperate to please, to establish himself in the good graces of this anchor.  Gaddes had been angry with him, he’d failed his master in some way, though he wasn’t sure how.  It didn’t matter.  This was what was wanted, what he could give.  Soon, everything would be alright.

            “Oh Jeture Dilanau.  I thought I’d never see you again.”  Gaddes continued between the kisses, his hands sliding over that sleek trembling body, backing him up against the wall.  His arousal was immediate and insistent, pressing against the beautiful youth, remembering how he used to hold him, how Dilandau knew just how to touch him to coax the most brilliant feelings from his flesh. 

            All thoughts of holding back, of talking and grovelling at the feet of this pale Adonis for forgiveness were forgotten in favour of taking back what had been so perfectly his.  More importantly, the dragonslayer seemed to have put it all behind him.  His kisses were hot and delicious, filled with the taste of vino and fire, radiating the most brilliant desire.

            “Forgive me.  Please… please forgive me.  Tell me you want me.”

            “Yes… yes Gaddes.”  Dilandau moaned, tugging at the sergeant’s shirt, his eyes smoldering, glowing from within.

            _NO!  NONONONO!!  I don’t’ want this!_  His mind screamed.  _I don’t want you!  You rejected me!  You looked down at me and threw me away like trash when I’d given you everything!_   A broken sob wrenched itself from his lips, but between the kisses and the way he clutched desperately at that strong solid body pressing against him, it easily sounded like a cry of desire.

            _“Are you really going to let him do this Dilandau?”_   It was Celena’s voice whispering in his ear, soft yet stern, cutting through his own panicked mental babble like a sharp sword through a soft belly.  _“Are you going to throw everything away?”_   He could almost feel her wrapping her arms around him, hugging him gently, her chin resting on his shoulder as she spoke.

            “He’s my Anchor, a master.”  It was such a stupid question.  His wants didn’t matter, and even if they did, he would want whatever was expected of him.    But his wants DID matter, another part of his mind protested.  He didn’t need this anchor, the one who’d rejected him and cast him aside.  There was another who cherished him, who stared at him with something in his eyes that he was slowly beginning to recognize as being priceless beyond words.

            He did have a choice.  He’d chosen Van.  Short, fierce, and brilliant Van.  The only man to ever best him in battle, the one man to never bow at his feet.  The only man to truly understand and accept him and all that he was. 

He’d said those very words only hours ago hadn’t he?  Demanding his choice be honoured, then all but admitting his feelings for the royal in front of everyone.  Sweet fate, those dark eyes had shone so brilliantly with joy.  He wanted to look into those eyes again, wanted it to be those hands tugging at his clothing, that body pressing him into the wall, his arousal pressing into his thigh. 

            Strong hands pulled at his jacket, fumbling with the many clasps and buckles. Slowing down the inevitable even as his own hands moved on their own volition, making short work of the sergeant’s shirt.  Leather gloved hands slid over hot flesh, needing to feel, to touch, to lose himself in every bit of sensation he could find.

            “Dilandau… oh sweet Jeture, I missed you so much.  I’m sorry, so sorry!”

            _“You didn’t answer me Dilandau.”_   Celena pressed onwards.  _“We both know this isn’t the man you want.  Are you ready to throw away everything you’ve done, everything you’ve grown into just to go back to being a plaything?  Are you strong enough to leave that little cell?  Van opened the door for you Dilandau, but it’s up to you if you leave it or not.”_

He could feel the feather against his chest, so warm and comforting, the feel of Van’s heart beating against his own.  It was what made him whole, it was what freed him from the demons of his past which lay buried in his mind.

            “Van.”  He whispered, his fingers tangling in short dark hair.  Too short, not coarse enough.  It didn’t feel right against his fingers.  Nothing felt right.  Where were the sparks that should be sizzling along their bodies?  Where was the brush of feathers?  Where was the link, sliding through his mind like silk, letting him know over and over again that he wasn’t alone, that he’d never be alone again.

            “Hmm?”  Gaddes asked, his hands sliding over that beautifully writhing body, lips tracing across that pale column of throat, loving how Dilandau’s pulse raced just beneath the surface.  Bah, enough with the stupid jacket, he’d never figure it out.  The pants were much easier.  Grinning against that silken soft skin, he bit the dragonslayer just beneath the ear, his teeth latching onto that sensitive spot he knew Dilandau loved so much.

            His knees went weak at the feel of the teeth on his flesh, causing sparks to dance behind his eyes as his back arched despite himself.  Hard flesh ached at the feel of the stiff buckles being unfastened, the cool air sliding across his groin for barely a second before a hot calloused hand took hold of him, squeezing his length with rough skill. 

            “Mmmm can’t wait.  It’s been too long.”  Gaddes murmured, his tongue sliding over the already bruised flesh of his neck, making Dilandau whimper softly as he struggled against the increasingly conflicted emotions inside him.  “I need you.  Need my Brat.  Need to fuck you.”

            The hand was too big, the callouses from rough labour rather than a sword.  Their touch lacked that primal an overwhelming thrill that always made him so eager to bow down, the raw passion which he’d grown to adore. 

This was wrong… everything about this was wrong!  This wasn’t his choice.  This wasn’t his bonded!

“VAN!”  Dilandau cried out loudly, shoving Gaddes away roughly and tearing at the buckles of his jacket, shaking himself free of the garment, desperate to grab onto the glowing feather pressed against his skin.  “Van… Van.”  He breathed, saying the name like a mantra.

“D… Dilandau?”  Gaddes took a step towards him, but the dragonslayer snarled viciously, his eyes glowing brilliant crimson as huge black wings tore themselves from his back and spread out threateningly on either side of his body. 

At the same instant, the room grew chill and the confused sergeant took a step back, unsure what was going on, but knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was very much in danger.

“In this very room you threw me away like I was garbage.”  The dragonslayer snarled softly.  “I crawled on my hands and knees, begging for you to take me back, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to touch me.  Do you have any idea how that made me feel?  What that did to me inside.”  He took a step towards the confused man and even though his sword was across the room, Gaddes took another cautious step back.  Instinct screamed at him to run, to get away from this thing that wore his ex lover’s body. 

He used to joke and share stories about demons with the crew back before the war, before they’d met Van and learned what he was.  After that, it just didn’t seem appropriate to call the noble and shy youth something so vile… but now… now he didn’t doubt that such things existed, and he was looking right at one.

Worse… it was pissed at him and had every right to be.

“You hated me, you pitied me because I had no mind of my own.  You were scared that I couldn’t refuse you, that you were using me if you held me, if you comforted me, if you took one fucking second to tell me that I wasn’t alone as my world was being torn apart over and over!  But now!  Now the instant you see me, you try to get into my pants?  You tell me to forgive you KNOWING that I have no choice in the matter!?  Were you going to order me to fuck you next?  Oh wait, you did.  You wanted me to spread my legs like a good little whore so you could cast me aside once more when you were done with me!?”

Yup… retreat was definitely in order… the balcony was always an option.  Better to have broken legs than whatever Dilandau was going to do to him.

The door opened at the sound of their raised voices and in stepped a beast man, the biggest one Gaddes had ever seen.  Wolfkin, wearing black armour and holding a huge sword, it pretty much went a long way to rounding out this nightmare scenario and the sergeant honestly couldn’t wait to wake up.

“Get down Dilandau!”  He yelled, taking a step forward, trying to protect the youth who might very well try to kill him in the next few seconds.  Of course, rather than follow instructions like he should, the boy instead stepped towards the beastman, snarling loudly, only to somehow have the hulking creature reply.  Both flashed him a look that made his nuts crawl even further up his body in terror.

 

“Another past mate?”  Rushah growled at the young draconian.  He could smell the musk in the room and the fact that the cub’s pants were open, leaving him rather exposed wasn’t lost on the wolf.  Still, he’s rarely seen Nakahi so angry and knew that it was because of this man… this odd man who still stepped forward to protect the pale cub despite being terrified of them both.

“Very past.”  Nakahi spat out, glaring at the man who was still backing away, wisely putting the bed between himself and them.

“Not so past as you would like to claim.  You might wish to fix your clothes before your current mate returns.  He no doubt is aware of your distress.”  Rushah noted idly before favouring the stranger with another warning growl.  He rather liked the two young mates, and anything or anyone who came between them wasn’t an ally of him.

“He helped me in the past and I trusted him.”  Nakahi explained, his wings still held open in a hostile display.  “He found out what the men who’d taken Van and I had done to me as a child and cast me aside.” 

“It seems that he’s rescinded that rejection.  He stepped forward to protect you from me.”

“Too little, too late.  He should have tried to protect me when I needed it, when it would have mattered.  Everyone I tried to care for abandoned me when I needed them most… until Van.”  As he spoke his mates name, Nakahi reached up and gently cupped the softly glowing feather in his hand, his wings finally closing.

The more relaxed he became, the warmer the room grew and Rushah took a deep calming breath.  It’s not that he was ungrateful for the strange deadly forces which followed the dark winged draconian’s command.  They’d saved his pack after all, but that didn’t mean that the youth’s old pack didn’t terrify him.  Even without seeing them, he could feel the icy cold loathing they had for all living beings, save for their leader.  It was harrowing to say the least.

“So, shall I gut him where he stands?  Or do we let him live?”

“Still thinking about it.”  Knowing that if the youth was talking rather than murdering the offending party, the situation was over, Rushah sheathed his sword and closed the door behind him, sealing them all in the room together.  Nakahi shot him a sidelong look as the weapon was put away, but he paid it no mind and instead, bent down to retrieve the youth’s own weapon from the floor. 

“He disarmed you?”  He asked as the sword was handed over, fighting back a wolfish grin, knowing full well that that wasn’t the case.  His amusement was met with a rather impressive sneer as the sword was taken from him and casually sheathed.

“I can’t attack him.  If I do, it might kill me.”  Well, that wasn’t the reply he’d been expecting.  There seemed to always be something more going on with these winged youths than met the eye.

 

Refastening his jacket, Dilandau glanced over at the still terrified Gaddes.  Sneer still fully fixed on his lips, he turned to face the man, taking a long moment to look him up and down, making it clear that he wasn’t impressed with what he saw.

“Hardly the way to greet your superior, Sergeant.”  If ice had a voice, this was it.  The cold tone had the desired effect and snapped the man out of his shock even as it made him cringe just a little in shame.  “Or is that how you usually do it on the Crusade?”  He couldn’t resist the jab and was rewarded with another flinch.

“Dilandau, I-”

“That’s Captain Albatou to you Sergeant.”  He snapped, his hand resting on the butt of his sword in casual warning.  “It sucks when our choices have consequences doesn’t it?”  The sneer faded, but the cruel smile which took its place was infinitely worse.  “I know, I dealt with the consequences of your choice for more than a colour in that hellhole.”  That was even better than a slap.  It was always so satisfying when his barbs hit home, and sweet fate, this man deserved a lot of them.

“You… you have wings…”

“Your skills of observation continue to astound.  Yes, yes I do.  You were there when I read out that they used Folken to make me.  Or were you too busy already thinking up how to cast me aside to truly listen?”  Another flinch, so sweet.  It was like a battle, only instead of crima claws, he was slowly tearing this man apart with words.  Folken would be so proud.  “You certainly didn’t waste time in any case, but I suppose you didn’t want to sully yourself with a demon.”

“That’s not-”

“Stow it, Sergeant.”  Dilandau cut him off, his voice sharp as a whip.  “I’m not interested in any of your excuses.  What I am interested in is the progress of my troops.  I trust you’ve been overseeing their training in my absence, or were you fucking them too?  I expect to see soldiers, not pets.”

“Yes… yes sir.”  Gaddes quickly added in the honorific when he noticed the narrowing of Dilandau’s eyes.  “Their files are all in my office.”

“Well that hardly does me any good now does it?”  The captain continued relentlessly.  “Why are they not on my desk waiting for me?”  He shifted enough to give his bare desk a rather pointed look.  “Surely you were notified of my arrival.  I find it rather hard to believe that a floating fortress hovering over the city was missed by one of my men.”  Ah it felt good to dress someone down, especially in front of an audience, even if Rushah didn’t understand Astorian.  He recognized the tone of voice and body language, that was enough for his audience.  “Or did you spend all your time picturing ways to attempt to seduce me rather than doing your job?”

“No… no sir.”

“THEN GET ME THE DAMN FILES!”  Dilandau screamed at him, revelling in this new feeling of control surging through him.  Gaddes was an anchor, but he’d pushed him away, he’d refused the man even though he’d given him instructions.  That had never happened before!  It was a heady drug and he was revelling in it as much as he could.  “You will get me those damn files and then you will haul your ass down to the barracks and let the men know that I expect them to be assembled and at attention the instant I arrive down on the field.  If they’re not, I will beat them to within an inch of their misbegotten lives, you included!”

“Yes sir.”  Gaddes was so pale he almost looked pure astorian, it was great.  Still, Dilandau let him get almost to the door before purring out one last command.

“Oh, and Sergeant?”  The man stiffened in dread, slowly turning around.  “The next time you forget to bow to me, I break your fucking legs.”

Taking the warning for what it was, he quickly bowed deeply then backed out of the room as quickly as he could, pausing only to straighten his clothes as he raced towards his office, then the barracks.  With each step he cursed himself over and over again.  After so long wishing and praying that the brat was back, he’d forgotten what a terrifying little monster he was. 

 

Things didn’t look to be improving when fifteen rather exhausting minutes later, he’d hunted down all the squad members who thankfully were just returning from their lunch and ordered them all to fall in for inspection. 

Naturally, what with palace rumour, even though he didn’t mention that the captain had arrived, they all seemed to know and there was a charged energy to the air, equal parts anticipation and dread.  While the pale dragonslayer had only led the team for a very short period of time, he’d certainly left his mark on them.

Gaddes nodded his head grimly as he walked up and down the ranks, noting that there wasn’t a scrap of lace to be seen, nor any other assorted fripperies.  Everyone was dressed in simple shirts, comfortable boots and loose breeches.  The outfits, while scandalous and outrageously common for Astoria were necessary for the exercises and drills the young captain had detailed prior to his kidnapping and damned if Gaddes wasn’t going to follow it to the letter.  Now, he was certainly glad that he’d chosen to. After such a disastrous reunion, he was pretty sure that Dilandau was going to jump on any single thing he found out of place ruthlessly.

It was obvious, the exact moment that the captain stepped foot onto the training grounds.  Gaddes could see each and every soldier stiffen, their heads snapping forward and eyes following the progress of their leader.  Unwilling to turn around, the sergeant listened for the sound of the boots on the beaten earth of the ring.  Even listening, he was nearly impossible to hear, and it was only when he felt the presence right at his side that he was finally able to place the youth.

“Sir, your men as ordered.”  He stated, not daring to turn his head.  It wasn’t as if he really needed to.  It was easy to picture that critical sneer as crimson eyes surveyed the ranks, searching ruthlessly for any sign of weakness.

“Congratulations Sergeant.”  Dilandau murmured.  “You taught them how to dress.”  Not sure if that was a compliment or not, Gaddes kept any reaction to himself and simply watched as the albino stepped forward towards his men.  Yup, Gaddes couldn’t quite keep from sighing softly to himself.  They were going to do another walk through.  Give the men another chance to try to kill him if that’s what they wanted, and a chance for the bloodthirsty captain to cripple another idiot.

“Where’s Van sir?”  Gaddes decided to take a risk and ask the question, noting the distinct absence of the king.  The messenger had stated that Van had returned as well, but so far, he hadn’t seen hide, nor hair of the king.

“Reporting to King Aston, plotting, doing king things.  He’ll be here as soon as he’s able.”  Dilandau replied promptly, his tone making it obvious that he had no interest in discussing the details.  Instead, his attention was wholly on the soldiers who were now at his mercy.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure that you’ve all enjoyed your vacation while I’ve been away, but I assure you that the easy times are past and I expect you to not only work hard, but impress me every damn day if you wish to remain in this unit.”  Dilandau began, his youthful voice carrying easily across the grounds to where several spectators had gathered to watch the performance.  It seemed that everyone wanted to come out and watch the return of the notorious captain.

Naturally, they were dismissed by the youth as being beneath his notice, but the men of the unit were not so lucky.  He began to stalk along the lines, sheathed sword in his hand, occasionally swatting someone sharply for not looking straight ahead or not having their shoulders back at the appropriate angle.  It was rather impressive how utterly cowed these men were by a teenager they almost all outweighed, but Dilandau’s ferocity more than made up for his slight build.

Realizing that standing there at the front of the lines rather than at the captain’s side was only going to further irritate the youth, Gaddes heaved a soft sigh which he mostly managed to keep to himself.  Taking a deep breath, he trotted over to the captain and dutifully trudged along behind him and praying to Jeture that this ended quickly.  His mind wasn’t into training at this moment.  What he wanted to know was what had happened in those rooms, and how.  Nothing made any sense and while he’d grown used to such things when Dilandau had been always at his side, two colours of normalcy had lessened his tolerance. 

“Have any of them received any guymelef training while I was away?”  The captain asked him, as if he’d just been out touring the border or on a short leave and not missing for two damn colours.  Lovely, another thing it seemed that they weren’t about to talk about.  The list seemed to be growing every moment.

“No sir.”  He replied promptly, even remembering the honorific without having to be prompted by a threat of imminent stabbing.  “I felt that you were by far the best to instruct them and we have remained away from the Alseides shed pending your arrival.”

“Hmph.  Good.”  He didn’t sound impressed with the sergeant, it was more of a “oh good, so you didn’t colossally fuck up one thing.” Sort of thing and Gaddes struggled not to bristle.

So many things didn’t make sense anymore.  The whole arrival via floating fortress, the rumour that he’d arrived with a zaibach delegation as well as beastmen… well, he’d seen the wolfman for himself and damn that was something he didn’t want to repeat… ever.  But none of that compared to the fact that he’d been greeted in that room by a snarling and furious draconian!

Wings… Dilandau had wings.  Sorcerous experiments aside, wings just didn’t suddenly appear on people, did they?  And where were they now?  Dilandau’s back looked whole.  His jacket was properly fastened and everything, which would be impossible if he had two huge feathery limbs protruding from his back.  There was no way that Gaddes had imagined them.  One just didn’t suddenly imagine wings on someone, especially someone as terrifying as the brat could be.

“You.  Who are you?”  Being so lost in his thoughts, Gaddes nearly walked right into the captain as he suddenly came to a stop next to Cassian, staring at the cat-kin as if trying to place him in his memory.

“Cassian Sir.”  The kitten’s eyes never shifted from their forward stare and he remained relaxed and composed.  Regis must have taken the time to explain what would be expected of him in order to make the best first impression.  Damn, even the boy’s ever swishing tail was still… oh, he was stepping on the long fur of the tip, pinning it to the ground.  Clever.

“Why are you here Cassian?”  The challenge in the captain’s voice was mild compared to other times, in fact, he sounded more intrigued than anything as he stood there, looking the beastman up and down, taking in his slight build and decent sword.

“To fight for you Sir.”

“For me?  Not for Astoria?  Nor for honour or grand title?”

“It’s by your grace that I will be permitted to fight or not Sir.”  The cat-kin replied boldly, earning shocked looks from those around him, though a faint knowing smile from Regis who stood next to him.

“Bold.”  Dilandau mused idly, walking around the beastman in a lazy circle.  “Can your sword back your words?” 

Without moving a muscle, Cassian watched the deadly predator stalking around him.  He moved like a beastkin, flowing and dangerous.  There were no wasted movements, no moment where his balance was off and no dropping of his guard. 

“Only with your permission sir.”  A wide grin of anticipation split Dilandau’s face at those words.  Finally, someone with a brain in their heads!

“Then draw.  Show me what you have to offer me.”  He barked, his own blade sliding free from its sheath and slashing out without warning.  The draw was low, aiming to gut the youth, but he broke formation and leaped back, narrowly avoiding the sword’s lethal edge thanks to his natural dexterity.

His own sword was drawn midair then brought up to guard, and not a moment too soon as Dilandau’s powerful downstroke caught the edge of the blade and was sent off to the side. 

Without missing a beat, the captain spun his arms around, using the momentum of the parry to lend him extra speed as he brought the sword up, sharply smacking the furred youth’s forearm. It could have easily been a deep cut, but instead he’d been hit with the flat of the blade, causing a rather telling bruise, but leaving him otherwise whole.  He was just taking the prospective soldiers measure.

Snarling, Cassian attacked with several vicious slashes of his sword, aiming to unbalance his opponent, seeking an opening, but there never seemed to be one.  The zaibachi captain’s defense was flawless and despite several exchanges, he couldn’t score a single hit, though he himself now bore several dark bruises along his arms and legs.  Each one of those “wounds” could have ended the fight, the beast-kin knew that, and he worried that he’d failed.

Even now, he could hear the others in the unit laughing, calling for him to go home, calling him kitten, animal… beast.  It made it worse that he knew that somewhere in that jeering crowd was the orange housecat, smugly watching him get his tail tied in knots and laughing at proving him wrong, that he’d never amount to anything but some primped up animal trained to count numbers.

Dammit!  He wasn’t going to bow down!  He was going to land a hit if it damn well killed him!  He was going to prove to all those glorified monkeys around him that he was just as good as they were!  No!  He was going to prove that he was better!

It was all over three blows later.  He’d never even seen it coming, but somehow, that blade had slipped through his attack, tapping the side of his neck with the flat, hard enough to bruise even as his own swing found itself tangled up moments later with the butt of Dilandau’s sword, tearing it from his hands.

“Yield.”  The order seemed to echo in his ears which hung so low that they might as well have been part of his hair.  His heart hammered in his chest, warring with his overworked lungs for room to move.  He’d never fought so hard before in his life.  Even now, his hands were shaking, and he didn’t even feel any of the wounds which would likely be screaming at him in an hour’s time.

Unable to help himself, he moved to kneel but was met with another sharp blow from his opponent across the cheek.  Eyes flying open, realizing that he’d just been slapped, he stared in shock at the sneering captain.

“You’re beat-kin, yield properly.  Stop acting like a damn human and take pride in yourself.”  The captain snarled.  Actually snarled.  Cassian understood the language though in his surprise, he almost didn’t recognize the sounds.  The captain spoke the wolves’ language?  But… how?  No self-respecting human learned the beast’s tongues, let along spoke one of them fluently.

“H…how?”  He managed to stammer out, his own attempt at the language sounding juvenile in comparison.  For a moment he actually forgot their audience and his own wounded pride.  This was an almost historic event as far as he was concerned.

“You will train with us.”  Dilandau replied in Astorian instead of answering the question.  “You will be in Alpha Squad.  I expect you at the guymelef shed at 0600 tomorrow morning.  Who’s your partner?”

“I am sir.”  Regis stepped forward, boldly meeting the captain’s eye.  Nodding his head, Dilandau allowed himself a grunt of satisfaction.

“Good.  Go over the basics of what I will be expecting of him.  He’ll shadow you for the first week.”

“Of course, sir!”  Flashing his partner a sly smile, the youth nodded his head.  It was only now that Cassian realized that had been said.  He was accepted?  He was part of the unit?!  He’d done it?

“Don’t be so happy.”  Regis warned after checking to ensure they were out of earshot.  “He’s going to work your tail off in ways you never imagined.  You might just regret this.”

“Never.”  Cassian couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he bent down to pick up his sword from the ground while Dilandau was looking at the rest of the assembled knights.

“You will all now spar with your partners.  Flat of blades only.  I want to see what you’ve all got.  If I see anyone holding back, I will personally kick your asses.”

Not needing any further orders, everyone leaped into action, quickly finding their partners and beginning to battle each other.  Gaddes was both impressed and a little jealous at how much more effort everyone was putting into their bouts, each one eager to impress the captain and earn his favour.  So much so that several teams ended up entering each other’s space, nearly causing injuries to their partners or those around them.

“Brilliant.”  Dilandau grumbled under his breath, gritting his teeth as he saw just how close some of those near misses were.  “You didn’t bother to teach them the basics of mass combat?”  He spared Gaddes a quick glare before screaming for a halt and wading into the mess.

“…Some of us never trained for stupid mass combat.”  Gaddes growled at the retreating back, noting how everyone immediately froze in their tracks.  “We were the underdogs you pale little brat, the mass was your damn side.”  He watched in silence as the captain railed at the assembled men, demonstrating his creativity with the astorian language… much to the detriment of anyone with ears, before altering several pairs and sending them off to the sides to have more room to work.

“Awwww is there trouble in paradise?”  Merle all but purred from her perch on a low hanging tree branch where she could watch the show and not be underfoot at all.  “I came to watch sir fluffykins get his ass handed to him and instead I get to see you acting like someone just kicked you in the nuts.”  Her grin was wide enough to nearly split her face in half.  “Is tall, pale, and psycho not putting out?  Did he kick you to the side of the road?  Hmmm I bet he had all sorts of fun the last two colours slutting around while you waited and pined for him.”

The past two colours of having her pecking at him mercilessly had helped him build up a rather impressively thick skin in regard to her insults, but he still couldn’t help but flinch at that last bit.   Had Dilandau found someone else?  It was no secret that Regis lusted after him, and he’d been the one to bring the captain home… in a floating fortress no less.  Dammit, if that little two faced zaibachi whore had stolen away his brat….

“Hmm looks like I hit a nerve there.”  Merle smirked, considering this to perhaps be one of the best days of her life.  Getting to see Fluffikins AND Gaddes taken down a peg more than made up for having to wait for Van to get out of those stupid meetings of his.  Stupid meetings, stupid King Aston for keeping Van away from her.

“Gaddes, get over here and make sure Tristan keeps his damn guard up.”  Dilandau snapped over the sound of clashing swords.  “Diego, you’re with me and so help me if you don’t firm up that limp wrist of yours, I’m going to cut it off and fist fuck you with it!”

“Wow.”  The catgirl snickered at the blistering vulgarities echoing across the salle, followed by the shocked gasps of the assembled nobles.  “Now that’s class.  Pure class.  Better run off to your master before he gets in a tizzy.” 

“You’re not nearly as amusing as you think you are.”  Gaddes snapped back at her even as he rushed forward, ready to join in the melee and hopefully not embarrass himself too badly.

 

An hour later, he really didn’t care about whether he embarrassed himself or not, so long as he got to lay down somewhere cool and preferably wet.  His clothes were stuck to his skin and his muscles practically screamed for rest.  He’d been moving from one group to the next at Dilandau’s command, working with one half of a pair while Dilandau ran the other half into the ground with grueling attacks until they’d either been broken of whatever bad habit had earned that moment’s ire, or had fallen over in exhaustion.  One man was still crouched off to the side throwing up, his body shaking from the exertion.

No one was spared and every single one of the men were covered in bruises from head to toe.  Not that the captain seemed to care.  In fact, he seemed to be taking it as a personal insult that so many of them were so weak with their sword work, at least in his opinion.

Finally, looking more than a little disgusted at the state of the men he was supposed to mould into premiere soldiers, Dilandau ordered them all to perform some basic drills.  A simple enough task, until one considered their current state of exhaustion.

Shaking his head, the captain strode over to the shade of the tree, thankful for the small jar of sun repellent cream which had been left on his bedside table from the night he’d been kidnapped.  It had done wonders in helping him get through this class under the bright sun, but his head still ached, and his temper was growing shorter by the minute. 

At this rate, he’d have three groups to work with.  Alpha, which were the ones he fully intended to sculpt into a new elite unit.  Beta, who he believed could still be trained to be a decent enough ground force, though piloting up in the air would only get them all killed.  Lastly, there was Gamma which he wasn’t going to let anywhere near any of the alseides units as pilots.  These were the ones he was going to either weed out or kill in the attempt.  They were nothing but spoiled nobles who felt that their blood and titles automatically meant that they were brilliant warriors.  If Aston insisted he keep them on, which he no doubt would, he’d see if any could be trained as techs, but for the most part, they’d be infantry support and artillery.

“Hey, psycho burn boy.”  The unfamiliar voice came from up above his head and he shifted into a more combat ready stance even as he glanced up, hand already on his sword.  He wasn’t sure what he expected to see from the future corpse who’d dared to address him so disrespectfully, but an orange ball of feline fluff wasn’t it.  Granted, it did look like a familiar enough hairball.

Was this the one that was always dangling from the Escflowne, the screechy one who was Van’s little pet?

“Hey, I’m talking to you snowball.”  He really hoped that Van wasn’t attached to the little hair clot, because he was about to gut her for calling him that.  “Hey, frea-MROW!”  She yelped as a dagger lodged itself deep into the tree trunk less than an inch from her left eye.

“What the hell is your problem!”  She yelled down at him, all her fur standing on end as she grabbed the knife and tugged it, trying to free it from its new wooden sheath.  The weapon didn’t budge an inch.  Giving it another tug, she felt a weight land on the outer edge of the branch and spun around in time to have the second dagger slam into the wood on the other side of her head. 

Pinned by the two weapons, she could only stare into those twin crimson orbs less than a foot away from her own.  How in the names of all the gods of Gaea had he gotten up into the branches so quickly?

“Some of us hold titles of respect and rank fuzzball.”  Dilandau growled at her in a low and dangerous voice.  “Other’s are just household pets.  Until you’re ready to change your station in life, you will damn well remember mine.  Fail to do so again and I’ll carve out your tongue just to listen to your scream.”

Most would beg for mercy at this point, especially knowing the history of this particular psycho.  This wasn’t an empty bluff and Merle had seen enough atrocities committed by his hand to know that he was not only fully capable of carrying out such a vile deed but would revel in it.  Even now, she could see Fanelia’s fires in those evil eyes and hear the screams of all those doomed souls burning to death as their city crumbled around them.

Merle was made of made of sterner stuff than most however, and she met that vicious glare with one of her own, her claws flexing even as her tail lashed back and forth aggressively.  She hated him too much to be afraid.  He stank of death.  It surrounded him like a cloud.  Death, blood, fire, and… Van? 

Unable to help herself, she drew in a deep breath and her head practically spun at her resulting shock and horror.  To her sensitive nose, he reeked of Van.  More than close proximity, he stank of musk and sweat.  She could smell her beloved Van all over him so strongly that her king might as well have been right there with them.  He… he and Van had… they’d… oh gods of Gaea, only hours ago… and before that as well.  She could smell the layers of it built on top of each other until their scents were mingled utterly in ways which only meant one thing.

With a wild screech, she launched herself at the captain.  The demon who’d stolen her precious Van away.  Her claws slashed out, almost catching his unmarked cheek as he jerked back, nearly losing his balance in surprise.

“HOW DARE YOU!!” She all but roared, pressing forward relentlessly and making Dilandau immediately regret the thoughtless act of casting his knives away.  A tree branch was no place for a sword fight.  He couldn’t hope to even draw it without it being caught in the branches.  Merle held all of the advantages and they both knew it.

Leaping out of the tree, Dilandau tucked himself into a tight roll, drawing his weapon and landing neatly on his feet, just in time to bat aside the enraged beast-kin.  Her claws scraped along his vambrace with an unholy shriek as she attempted to gouge out his eyes.

“YOU STAY AWAY FROM HIM!”  She screeched again, continuing her attack with almost rabid madness, not even noticing that the palace guards were racing forward or that the class had all stopped to watch.  “You murderer!  You burned them!  You killed them all and laughed!!! YOU LAUGHED!!!  I won’t let you take him too!”  Another slash nearly made it through his guard, she didn’t even feel it as the flat of his blade smacked into her arm hard enough to numb the nerves.

She wasn’t giving him room to manoeuvre or use his weapon to any sort of advantage, continuing to push him back on sheer ferocity alone.

“I HATE YOU!!! HATEHATEHATEHATE YOU!!”  Another vicious slash caught the edge of his collar, her claws stopped for a moment, caught on the gold chasing.  It was all the time Dilandau needed to catch her hands with his pommel, tangling them together as he twisted sharply, driving her into the ground hard enough to drive the air out of her lungs.

From there, it was child’s play for him to twist her writhing and snarling form into a hold which would force her to stay still no matter how hard she struggled or kicked.  Her arms were pinned behind her back, her legs caught in his as his armoured boots dug ruthlessly into her bare calves as he used his weight to keep her pressed to the ground.

“Back off!”  Dilandau snapped at the guards, causing them to freeze in their tracks.  “I’ve got this.”  He shifted slightly, causing pain to tear through her lower legs, but she refused to scream, opting instead to yowl angrily, ready to tear his throat out with her damn teeth if that’s what was necessary to bring him down.  Through it all, the scent of Van surrounded her, enveloped her in its familiar warmth and taunting her with every breath.

“You can smell him on me can’t you?”  Dilandau whispered in her ear, his voice poisonously sweet.  “Did you want to know how I had him, only a few hours ago pinned up against the leg of an alseides unit, naked, trembling and begging for me to touch him?  How I’ve had him over and over again, taking his innocence, teaching him such wonderfully naughty and dirty things that he could do with that delicious little body.  You’d be amazed what a quick study he is.  So eager to please.”  His words were practically a purr and Merle stiffened beneath him, so furious that she was ready to break her own bones in order to get free long enough to murder this disgusting raping bastard!  There was no way Van would do any of that willingly!

“I.will.murder.you.” She snarled, barely able to pronounce the words through her rage.  “Tear you into pieces so small that even the deaths of your precious little boys will look like a merc-”  She gasped as he tightened the grip, feeling the bones of her legs creak ominously as muscles began to pull beyond their limits.

“Hardly the way to speak to your new Prince Consort little kitten.”  He purred in warning, his every word dripping with venom.  The way she shuddered and stiffened beneath him was beautiful and sweet fate he wished that Van was here right now so he could take the damn king right there on the training grounds and assert his claim for everyone to see.

“…no….no he wouldn’t….”

“Yes, he would and he did kitten.  Married, consummated and even provided heirs.  You can’t touch a hair on my head without forcing your precious king to sentence you to death.”  Now it was his turn to grin and he was loving every moment.  “So perhaps you should pick your insults a little more carefully in the future because I am one of your royals, and you?  You’re just a useless thing… and I do so hate useless things.”

“NOOOOOOOO!”  She wailed loudly, tears falling from her eyes and blinding her.  “YOU’RE LYING!”  Her muscles tensed beneath him as her fury leant her strength and with a sudden surge of movement, she actually threw the albino off of her, sending him head over heels across the floor as he rolled away from the vicious slashes which immediately followed.

Scrambling frantically to her feet, she spun around on aching and trembling legs to see that he was already upright, sword drawn and his eyes blazing with sadistic delight as he revelled in her pain.

“I remember you during the war.”  He taunted cruelly.  “Always clinging to his armour, always shouting his name, puffing up like a scared little kitten.  You were a detriment then and you’re a detriment now.  Do you think I didn’t see you all trussed up like a hunting trophy when I rescued you both from those mercenaries?  He could have gotten away if it hadn’t been for you.  It was you they caught, you they held the sword to and forced him to surrender.  You’re nothing but a rock around his neck, dragging him down over and over until one day, you’ll be the death of him.”  The dragonslayer sneered at her pitilessly as she froze at his words, her own guilt surging forward.

“No!”  She spat back.  “I helped during the war!  I stopped those two beast women!  I helped bring Van and Hitomi back from the Paths of the dead!  Me!  I did that!”

“Do you hear yourself?  You seriously believe that you helped?  You what, stood in front of two cat women?  Oh I read their report little cat.  You reminded them of themselves, your little show of foolish bravery bringing to mind the futility of their own defiance in their youth.  They weren’t in awe of you, they weren’t scared.  They pitied you.  You were too hopeless and useless to strike down.

“As for the rest?  You what, yowled so loudly that he could hear you?  Did you promise to lick his cock every night?  Perhaps you valiantly smashed your way through the Gates of the Paths of the Dead?  Funny, I don’t remember seeing so much as a dent.  Are you sure you helped?  Or is that what you just tell yourself?”

“I HATE YOU!”

“So?  Most everyone here does, but unlike you, I have a use, so they put up with me.  What do you do?  What do you offer your king?  What do you bring to aid us during this war?  What did you even do to find him?  Anything!?  Or did you just sit there and yowl about how much you missed him and let everyone else do the work?”

His words struck home viciously, coupled with the scent of Van still surrounding him, taunting her with every breath she took.  She didn’t smell her beloved king’s terror in that mix, only his lust…only the betrayal of everything they’d ever held dear.  How could she fight that?  What could she do?  He was right.  She was nothing… useless… just a pet. 

All her life, she’d dreamed of one day being Van’s queen, of sharing that special something with him that no one else did.  She wanted to be the center of Van’s world!  Hitomi had stolen that dream from her and eventually, over the course of the war, she’d grudgingly accepted that… but this…This didn’t steal her dream, it shattered it.  Had she truly never had a chance?  Had she been nothing but a pet to her king?  A childhood playmate he was quickly outgrowing?

“There’s no place in this world for useless things.”  Dilandau stated flatly, further crushing her.  “But that’s a choice only you can make.  Are you going to remain as nothing but a weight pulling Van down?  Are you going to always be the victim?  The hostage ensuring his compliance with his enemies?  It will happen again and again you know, and one day, I might not get there in time to rescue him.”

Looking up into those evil crimson eyes, Merle couldn’t resist a faint snarl, her claws still unsheathed and ready to tear into lily white skin the instant he so much as blinked for too long.

“What are you getting at?” She hissed softly, blinking away the tears which gummed up her lashes.  “Running out of insults?”

“Are you sick of being useless?  A pet?  Aren’t you ready to become something more?”  The question caught her off guard, it was so unexpected that she actually caught herself listening to him. 

“What do you mean?”

He smiled at her grimly and his fingers lightly traced along the torn collar of his jacket, tugging it open slightly so she could see the bright beads of blood welling up from his throat where she’d managed to tear through.  For a moment, she stared at it, cursing herself for how close she’d gotten to claiming revenge on the pale butcher of her people.  So damn close.

At that same moment, a shining feather on a golden chain fell free from the jacket’s confines.  It caught the light of the sun, glowing with its own beautiful light and Merle didn’t need to smell it to know that it belonged to Van.  He’d given this to their enemy, to the monster who’d hunted them across the length and breadth of Gaea for so long that they’d both heard his maniacal laughter in their nightmares.

Noting the revealed feather, Dilandau held it up for her to see.  Despite his triumphant grin, he held it carefully, treasuring the plume deeply.

“He gave this to me, a draconian wedding vow to begin a new life together as one.  Seeing that our lives are now intertwined far more than either of us expected, it’s in our combined best interest to ensure that the other stays as safe as possible… which I’m sure you know isn’t nearly as simple as it sounds.”

“State what you want butcher.”  She hissed, desperately holding onto her anger despite the obviousness of her defeat.  He wasn’t lying, even she could see that.  She’d lost, and she hadn’t even been aware that there’d been a contest.

“There are few people who’ve ever marked me during battle, fewer still who’ve survived the experience.  It’s drive and ferocity like you demonstrated that I want in this new unit, a unit that Van and I will command during this war.  I want the bloodlust, the desire to do whatever it takes to accomplish the goal and the will to see it through.  No one’s ever broken that hold I had you in, and once the adrenaline wears off, you’re going to need medical attention.

“You have promise girl.  A lot of it and you’re being wasted playing the part of a pet.  Work under me, under Van as a warrior.  Train with us, learn from us and pilot a guymelef into battle for your king.  Never be a victim again.”

“But… what?  I can’t pilot one of those things!  I’m a cat!”

“So?  So’s Cassian, and Jajuka was a dog, but he still piloted an Oreades at my side.  Why should the fact that you have a tail matter?”

“I’m a girl!”

“Oh I’m sorry, were you planning on having a litter during the course of this war?  If that’s not the case, why should it matter?  None of that stopped Nariya or Eriya.  I might have hated those two but even I could admit those damn cats could fly… even if they had the stupidest guymelef’s in history.”

“I won’t train under you.  You murdered my kingdom.”

“Then train under Van, but do keep in mind that on the battlefield, I’m his direct superior.”  Dilandau shrugged, hardly bothered by semantics.  “Make your choice.  An empty life as a useless pet, or learn to be the warrior you are in your heart.  If you can’t stand as Van’s mate, then stand as his equal on the battlefield.”

“…Do I get to try to kill you again?”

“Only during sparring.  You draw a sword on me at any other time and I will end that potential of yours immediately no matter what Van says.”  Their eyes never left each other, the two of them watching each other like the predators they were, neither one blinking.

“I hate you.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’ll do it.”  She practically spat out the words, hating herself as she did so, feeling as if she was betraying the memory of Fanelia.  But was it truly a betrayal?  Van was in the squad… and it was for Astoria… for everyone.  She could help.  It didn’t matter what this pale freak thought, so long as she believed that she could become something more than a pet.

“Good, grab a sword from the bin.  We’ll get you a better one fitted for you shortly.  You’re in Alpha unit.  Join the ranks soldier and make your king proud.”

She shot him another wary look before backing away to the weapon bin only to have several of the other would be soldiers stand in her way.

“Sir!”  One of the younger men called out to the captain, his voice filled with outrage at this indignity.  “She’s a cat!  She’s not even human… and she’s… she’s a girl!”  He sputtered, several other men murmured their assent.  In their eyes, it was bad enough that they’d been forced to tolerate one animal in their group of elite soldiers, but there was no way they were going to stand for another, especially a female!  Such things were unheard of in civilized society!

Smiling at the men in question and striding idly forward, his hand resting on his sword, he glanced at all of them, then at Merle who looked ready to murder them where they stood.

“Excellent work soldier.”  He sneered.  “Your skills of perception rival those of Gaddes.  Yes, she is a cat-kin and female.  She’s also a better warrior than you are, and that’s without any training.  Honestly what the hell have you been doing while I was away, playing cards?”

“I refuse to train with a female! Let alone a non-human one-”  The man’s voice hitched as he suddenly found the captain’s unsheathed blade between his legs, the razor edge lightly pressing up beneath his crotch.

“Are you planning on fucking her, soldier?”

“What!?!?!”  Merle practically screeched even as the soldier sputtered in disgust.

“I would never sully my esteemed lineage with such a degrading act!”

“Then why do her genitals matter to you?”

“Women aren’t fit for combat!  She’ll… she’ll have vapours during battle or stop fighting to save a flower!” 

 _“Fuck that, I’m gonna kill him.”_   Celena grumbled in the back of his mind.  _“Shift over, let me take control and hand him his balls on a plate!”_  He had to smile at her fire though knew that it was an empty boast.  He also had no intention of stepping aside in such a public location.

“Later dear Celena.  We’ll run into him in the halls or something and you can carve to your heart’s content.”  He murmured too softly for the others to hear.

“Tell me soldier.”  He kept his tone of voice perfectly reasonable as he smiled at the man, though he was unable to resist giving him a little friendly tap between the legs to remind him of where his sword currently was.  “Are you the captain of this unit?”

“Er… no… no sir.”  The idiot was finally beginning to realize how precarious his situation actually was and sweat beaded his brow as he swallowed nervously.

“Ah, finally remembered to call me sir.  How nice.”  The sweet smile caused many of the man’s supporters to back away nervously, remembering the last time he’d smiled pleasantly at one of his men.  “Now, since you have admitted that you are not the captain of this unit, I’m curious as to why you believe that you should be telling me who can and can not be in my unit.  Was there perhaps a change in leadership while I was away?”

“Er… no sir… you’re in charge.”

“So then you’re challenging my decision?”  Crimson eyes began to narrow dangerously as he gave the man another helpful pat.  Gaddes cautiously edged forward, pushing Merle gently back, hoping to help her avoid the splash zone.  He just couldn’t wait to try to explain all of this to Van.  The poor kitten was going to be irrevocably emotionally scarred.  No young girl deserved to see one of Dilandau’s jaunts into crazy land, let alone up close.

“No sir… not challenging you sir.”

“It sounded an awful lot like you were telling me that she couldn’t be in my unit.  As if you had some sort of say in my decisions.  Do you think that you have a say in my decisions?”

“…no sir.”  The once bold voice was little more than a whimper as he blade pressed just a little harder.

“I see.  So then, being fully aware that you were not in charge of my unit and did not outrank me, you felt that it was your place to speak up and deny a soldier which I had personally selected in front of all of you, access to weapons.  Interesting.  Tell me, sir….”  He glanced over at Gaddes to fill him in on the name.

“Dumas.  He’s sir Dumas.”

“So then tell me, sir Dumbass.”  Dilandau allowed himself a slight smile at the juvenile insult.  “Are you the heir of your line?”  Another tap, this time the man was doing his best not to sob, his legs shaking visibly for all to see.

“…N…no sir.”

“So then, if genitals are such a problem, if I removed yours, it will cause no issue with your families’ lineage, and there will no longer be an issue with having a woman serve as a soldier.  If I make the cut just right, you two might even match.”  His smile grew wider and more malicious.  “You two could even become bunkmates.”

“Please sir… not that… anything but that…” 

“The gelding?  Or becoming her bunkmate?  You only get to pick one.  Do choose wisely soldier.”

“The gelding!”  He didn’t even have to think about it, practically yelling out the words.  Smiling brilliantly, Dilandau removed the blade with one swift flick, watching the soldier all but sink to the ground.  No one moved to stop him, too fearful of drawing attention to themselves.

“It’s good to see that you’ve decided to see beyond her physical form and have volunteered yourself to be her partner.  Merle, this is your partner, Dumbass.  Eventually, he might even prove to be worthy of a real name, but for now, that is what he will answer to in this class.  You are responsible for each other’s success or failure.  It will be up to you to ensure that she learns the rules of this unit Dumbass.  Her failures will result in you being beaten to within an inch of your life.  Merle, you will do everything within your power to make sure that he doesn’t make a fool of himself again, especially to me.  My patience is not limitless, less so for idiots who question my judgement.”

“Um… ok… er… sir.”  Merle nodded, staring at the whole scene with wide eyed fascination.  She’d never seen a noble dressed down and reduced to a weeping blubbering mess before, all without a single blow being struck.

“Now get up Dumbass.  You all still have a run around the gardens and you had all better pray that your times are better than the last time I watched you all.  Oh, and this is for forgetting my title.”  He spun around without any further warning, driving his fist into Dumas’ face, sending the man crashing to the ground hard.  It was rather nice wearing armoured gloves again.  Punches always felt so satisfying, and it was wonderful to not have to risk damaging his hands to enjoy it.

“Now get off your ass and start running.  Gaddes, keep time!”  With that, he turned and bolted, fully expecting the others to come and catch up, or at least attempt to.  In this, he was not disappointed, and the sound of many heavy footfalls fallowed him out onto the lovely and overly manicured trail encircling the outer walls of the palace.

It was hard to keep the smile from his face at how beautiful the day was turning out to be.

 

“Brat’s gonna be the death of me.”  Gaddes grumbled as he trudged through the palace, feeling more than a little half dead from the day’s exertions.  He found himself almost wishing for the wound in his side to return just for the lighter duties it had given him.  Running after that pale little monster was so much easier when he was on a damn horse.  At least in that regard, the rest of the unit seemed to agree with him.  Not a single one of them wasn’t panting and propping themselves up against anything stable enough to hold their weight. 

It certainly hadn’t helped that the brat had then laughed at them, calling them out of shape and lazy, sending them off on yet another run around the gardens.  The little bastard was barely winded!  It just wasn’t friggin fair.

Naturally, the brat had then wandered off with a rather exhausted Merle to get her fitted for a proper sword and likely wouldn’t be seen for another hour or so.  At that point, if he never laid eyes on the little albino bastard, it would be too soon.  He had just enough breath left in his tortured lungs to order his half dead men to the showers, hoping that none of them drowned themselves in the water.  As for himself, he had several sets of stairs to climb in order to return to his rooms and he was pretty sure the number had tripled since this morning.

By the time he finally reached the top of his arduous climb, panting and more than half ready to crawl down the damn hallways, he saw that his day hadn’t improved in the least..

Looking down said hallways, he could see that ferocious and hulking beast man standing at the door to his room like some vicious feral guard.  A shudder which had nothing to do with his current state of exhaustion tore through his body.  His eyes couldn’t help but take in those massively broad furred shoulders which strained against the armour, not to mention muscles twice as thick as his own.  The sword hanging from his hip just begged to be drawn and he knew that if it ever came down to a fight, that monster could easily snap his blade in half, let alone what would happen if he scored a single hit.

For all his faults, the brat certainly knew his beastkin.  He’d taken to Cassian almost instantly, had plucked little Merle out of her spiral of vengeance and now this! 

Nothing was going to get past that beastman.  Even now he could see one of those pointed ears swivelling in his direction.  There was the subtle creak of armour as those great muscles tensed slightly and he was pretty sure he could hear a low growl rumble through the air.  Greater men than him would have quietly retreated and lived to see another day, but there was no way Gaddes was heading down those stairs of death again, not after struggling so hard to climb them… and dammit, those were his rooms too!  He just wanted a shower, to grab his clothes and then he’d leave the damn brat in peace if that’s what he wanted. 

There were still rooms in the barracks, he could claim one of them and endure the knowing looks the men … and woman would shoot him.  Dammit, this was humiliating!  He was a sergeant, a hero of the damn Destiny War, and within a few minutes of his return, the brat had reduced him to the level of some bar whore, slinking away with the shadows of night once the sun rose.

Well, he wasn’t going to have it!  He was going to march right up there and give that damn dog what for!  He was going to assert himself and stare eye to chest at this fellow and let him know that he was a respected member of this court… sort of… and he wasn’t going to just give slink away! 

“Um… hi.”  Yeah…So much for sounding cool and authoritative.  The wolf man glanced down at him, those amber eyes narrowing slightly, but otherwise he did nothing to acknowledge the sergeant’s presence.  Dammit!  This shouldn’t be so hard!

“So…I… um… this is my room.”   Still nothing.  Did the guy even speak Astorian?  It was sort of hard to believe that there were people out there in Gaea who didn’t speak the trade language, but he’d heard of it… and this guy didn’t look like a local at all.  Even his armour had a sort of Freid flare to it

“My Room.”  He tried again, this time saying it in a slower and louder voice while pointed at the door in an exaggerated manner.  His efforts once more netted him the same lack of notice. 

“Could you move?”  Nope, he didn’t seem to know Fanelian either.  Great… maybe he could try rushing him?  Yeaaaah, no, that wasn’t happening.  He could barely hold himself up right now.  Tackling a beast-kin who looked like he weighed about four hundred pounds, all of it muscle and teeth wasn’t going to end well in his favour.  Calling the palace guards certainly wasn’t an option either.  Not only would it cause way too much attention to his pathetic situation, the brat would never let him hear the end of it… and neither would the guards.  It would be all over the palace within an hour and men… no… Dilandau’s men would never take him seriously ever again. 

“Look.”  He tried one last time, hoping that his exasperation would carry understanding… and maybe some friggin sympathy.  “I know you don’t like me, and I’m fine with that. But that’s my room and I want a damn shower!”  He growled through gritted teeth, only to finally receive acknowledgement in the form of a much more menacing sounding growl being issued through a mouth filled with large pointed teeth.

“He doesn’t speak Astorian.”  Van spoke up from right behind him, causing Gaddes to jump and perhaps issue a somewhat undignified shriek.  It wasn’t his fault!  He’d had a hellish day so far!

After giving himself a few moments to attempt to get his heart back in the right place… and at the proper pace, he looked at the young king and then did a double take.

The past two colours had been hard on the youth.  There was more muscle on his once lean form and he’d grown at least another inch.  Actually, on closer inspection, it looked like it wasn’t so much more muscle as that any and all fat had been burned off, leaving him a creature of whipcord strength and iron will.

More importantly though were the eyes.  There was something almost… feral to his eyes.  Though there was a certain amount of wary warmth to them, they almost reminded him of Dilandau’s too fierce stare when he was debating on becoming unhinged.

Even now, they seemed to stare right through him, stripping away the shell of flesh and staring into his very soul.  Even the wolf man’s eyes weren’t half as piercing, and he was pretty sure that that guy wanted to eat him.

Shockingly, he was wearing nothing more than a simple kilt, identical to the one the wolf man wore… only much much smaller.  It was a shocking amount of flesh to see on anyone, let alone a king from a neighbouring country.  Fanelia was almost as conservative as Astoria when it came to display of bare skin and he couldn’t believe that Van had willingly attended a meeting with King Aston like that.  How had he not been arrested!

Even after living in close quarters with the dark teen over the course of the war, he was pretty sure that he’d never seen the usually shy king show so much flesh.  Distressingly, he showed far more than that and Gaddes felt his eyes widen in horror as he took in the new scars marring his friends body.  Long and neat, they marked his tanned skin in several key locations across his abdomen, chest and back.

He knew damn well that he hadn’t acquired them during the war.  These weren’t battle scars, and that’s what sickened him more the longer he stared at them.  They were as familiar as they were horrifying, and he knew that Dilandau had matching wounds on his body, only much, much older.  Sweet Jeture, no wonder he looked like he was on edge.  He’d been tortured and who knew what else.

Almost as interesting and unexpected as the scars was the shining black feather hanging from Van’s neck.  Slightly tangled with Hitomi’s pendant, it seemed to drink in the gentle glimmer of the energist stone, shimmering beautifully to the point that it was hard to tell if it actually was black, or many deep rich colours mixed together. 

It had to be important to be given such a place of honour around his neck, hanging from a beautiful golden chain, but for some reason, Gaddes found it hard to stay focussed on it for more than a moment.

“This is Rushah, pack leader for the RedPaw clan.  A good friend and brother to me.”  Van smiled though the expression didn’t seem to quite reach his eyes.  Adding onto the many surprises he’d been dealt over the past few hours, the king then made a strange series of growls and huffs… the same sort that Dilandau had done earlier.  The wolf-man replied in turn.  Of course he did.  Of course the two most annoying teenagers on Gaea knew how to speak beastkin.  It just figured.

Favouring Gaddes with a dark look, whatever he’d said to the king made the youth’s lips twitch in a slightly more open smile.

“I told him that you’ve been using this room in Dilandau’s absence.  He said you need to find another room.”  Van chuckled, as if this was no big issue.  Typical king.  “I wouldn’t press him on the matter.  The Redpaws really like Dilandau.”  Still radiating amusement, he motioned with his hand for the sergeant to follow him.

“You can use my shower if you need.”  He stated, as if it was nothing for a king to share his bathroom with a commoner.  The nobles would throw a fit if they knew.  “But I’d suggest a new sleeping arrangement from here on out.”  The smile faded from his lips and there was something hard in those eyes once more, something fierce which made what he’d said more of an order than a “suggestion”. 

Gaddes nodded his head quickly, ready to agree to almost anything at this point if it would get him a nice hot shower.  Besides, what with that strange look in Van’s eyes, he was positive that he didn’t want to do anything to upset his friend.

With a longing glance back at his door, he heaved a heavy sigh.

“I suppose I can get a servant to take my things down to the barracks.”  He murmured when it was obvious that even now, this Rushah wasn’t going to move.  It would be embarrassing, but better than being beaten to an exhausted pulp. 

Right now wasn’t the time to push Dilandau.  He could tell that well enough.  The brat needed time to get his feet back under him… it wasn’t a permanent rejection… he hoped.  Oh, who was he kidding?  He’d been pushed away!  Dilandau had torn a strip off of him and made him feel like the world’s biggest heel, not to mention the whole wing thing.  Yeah… space was a good thing. 

Nodding his head to the king, then to the hulking beastman, he followed Van to the royal guest suites, wishing that he could find a way to make this day start making sense. 

Actually, the answer to that was right in front of him!  Van might now what was going on in Dilandau’s head!  The two of them had spent the last two colours together and managed to not lose any major body parts!  More importantly, he knew that the two of them were lovers, so it wasn’t as if he had to beat around the bush with anything.  This mess might actually work in his favour.

Waiting until the door was closed, he followed the fanelian king into his personal suites, thumbs tucked into his belt and doing his best to not to gawk at the huge spacious living area.  Sure, he’d seen them before during the course of their pathetic excuse for an investigation, hoping to find some sort of clue that might unravel the whole mess.  In the end though, he just was a simple man who’d lived a simple life, and these were damn impressive, even if Van hadn’t ever tried to decorate them. 

“So,”  He began, doing his best to sound nonchalant.  “I met with Dilandau earlier.”

The king froze in the act of picking up an apple, his body dangerously still as he’d been turned to stone and Gaddes could swear that he could feel the tension in the room.  Turning slowly, the dark king looked at the sergeant with narrowed eyes which had suddenly gone cold as ice.

“You did?”  Van’s voice sounded flat, almost dangerous and the pendant began to flicker slightly.  Blind to the growing danger, Gaddes continued, desperate to figure out what was going on and trusting in his long association with Van.  He’d long ago been inured to the fact that this was still a rather dangerous and possibly unstable teenager.

“Yeah… and for a moment, I thought everything was going great.”  He huffed, shrugging his shoulders even as he picked at his sweaty shirt, wondering just how badly he smelled and if Van would mind if he asked him to grab him a new one.

“I mean… I asked him to forgive me, and he said he did, so that was good.  Then we kissed… gods.  Look, I know that you don’t want to hear about it, but by Jeture that brat can kiss!  After so long, I’d forgotten how amazing it could be.  He might have the personality of a bull dragon during rut, but you gotta admit he’s pretty much walking sex.  Ok… yeah, you might not admit that, but I can understand where you’re coming from what with the whole crazy burning thing he’s got going.”

The apple in Van’s hand was beginning to steadily leak down the king’s arm as the fruit was slowly being crushed.  Still, Gaddes continued, oblivious to the growing danger.

“It was just like it was before all of this…nightmare.  I could barely keep him off of me… not that I wanted to mind you, but just as things were about to get really good, he shoved me away and starting screaming at me about… well, everything really.  I haven’t seen him so pissed off in a while and I have no idea what set him off.  I was hoping you might know.  I mean, the kid’s unpredictable at the best of times, and I know you think that I’m just trying to get into his pants again… which I sort of am, but there’s more to it.  I miss the little basta-”

He was cut off by Van practically snarling in rage and leaping at him, long white feathered wings bursting from his back and spraying the room with feathers.  Dimly, Gaddes realized that they truly were very beautiful, and then the king smashed into him, sending them both to the floor hard.

Before the sergeant could even demand an answer of beg his friend to stop, a solid fist smashed into his jaw, making sparks dance in front of his eyes.  The second hit was even harder and he was pretty sure that more than one tooth had been loosened.

Strong hands grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and shook him viciously, making it even harder to recover or even figure out just what in Jeture’s name was going on.  Why was Van attacking him!?

“How dare you!”  Van all but screamed in his face, spraying spittle across Gaddes’ cheek.  “How could you do that to him!?  You bastard!”  Another punch struck his face, splitting his lip and covering Van’s hand with blood. 

Gaddes had never seen Van so out of control and he knew that at any moment, the king might remember that he had a sword and knew how to use it.  Worse, he couldn’t even fight back!  Van was a king and he was a commoner.  If he so much as bruised Van’s knuckles with his face, he’d be thrown into the dungeons forever.

“HOW DARE YOU!”  He snarled again, his eyes almost looking red as they bore down on him, full of raw and wild fury.  “You know what they did to him!  You know how they made him!  He can’t refuse you remember!?  He would have done anything you said!  Let you do anything to him no matter how much he hated it and you!  He finally gets back to where he’s supposed to be safe and you almost rape him!  How could you forget that!  It’s why you broke up with him!”

Shame flooded him, overpowering all other emotions as he realized that he HAD forgotten.  In his delight at finally seeing the beautiful youth, he’d forgotten about the terrible demons buried in that tortured skull.  

“Oh… oh gods…”  He gasped through torn lips.  “Oh gods oh gods… what have I done?”  His stomach churned and he desperately wanted to throw up.  His brat… his beautiful fierce brat.  After all they’d been through, he’d nearly done exactly what those damn disgusting sorcerers had.  Used him like a thing, with no regard to his thoughts or desires.  No wonder Dilandau was furious with him.  He didn’t deserve to even live!

“I… I forgot.”  He murmured, earning himself another vicious blow from Van, spraying blood across the fine rug he lay on.

“You forgot?!?!  You listened to him detail all of that torture, the rapes!?  The abuse he grew up with and you fucking forgot?!?!”  He wasn’t sure what stunned him more, the explosion of violence, or the fact that Van was swearing at him. 

“I forgot.”  Gaddes repeated, his voice hollow as the full weight of what he’d done hit him.  He’d held the dragonslayer’s heart in his hands but hadn’t been able to handle the terrible responsibility of caring for someone as damaged as he’d been.  He’d run from it, leaving a hurt and lost boy all alone when he’d needed assurance more than he ever had before… and then when he came back from whatever hellish journey he’d been forced on, he was nearly raped by the very man who’d once claimed to love him.  It made him truly wonder who the demon was here.

“Oh gods… oh Jeture….”  Words couldn’t begin to describe how horrible he felt.

“You think Jeture will forgive you?”  Van all but spat at him, pushing the broken man away in disgust and rising to his feet with a flap of his wings.  “You think Dilandau will?”  The king snarled, turning away from him, attempting to gather himself before he murdered the man.

Reaching up with a trembling hand, Van cupped the dark feather tightly and held it to his heart.

“I’m so sorry Dilandau.”  He murmured softly.  “This is twice now that I promised you safety and twice now that I’ve failed…”

Spinning back to face Gaddes, he glared at the man who still lay there on his floor, not quite able to will himself to move. 

“What did you do to him?  Did you rape him?”  Gods of Gaea help him, if Gaddes had, he’d murder the man.

“No…no I didn’t… he pushed me away.”

“He can’t push you away.  You’re an anchor.”  Van spat the word with so much loathing that Gaddes was almost fearful of asking about the tale behind the venom.  “He’s got to do what you tell him and love it.  He has no choice in the matter.”

“He pushed me away Van. Jeture help me… I came close…to my eternal shame, I came so close, but he shoved me away and suddenly he had wings… just like yours but black, like that feather around your neck.”  Gaddes paused for a moment and looked at the feather again.  “Exactly like that feather.”  He murmured, his brain beginning to realize that something more was going on here than he was seeing.  Why would Van have Dilandau’s feather around his neck?  The two of them hated each other beyond words…unless over the past two colours they’d learned how to get along… Yeah… even Pyle wouldn’t take that bet.  But it was safe to say that Van was pretty damn protective of the dragonslayer, so maybe the impossible had actually happened?

“Gods of Gaea, I should kill you right now for that.  Where the hell is he now?”  Van was still clutching at the necklace and looking around, a frantic light in his eyes.

“I… I don’t know.”  The beleaguered sergeant replied, more stunned by those words than the actual attack.  “He slipped off after running us all into the ground.  I was just going to get my clothes and move into the barracks until I figured out what was going on!... um… What is going on Van?”

The sneer the king shot him was worthy of Dilandau himself.

“Mind your own business Gaddes.”  Van snapped.  “You’ve caused enough problems.  Come on you stubborn bastard… answer me!”  He muttered that last bit under his breath, but the sergeant heard him well enough and only grew even more confused.

Taking a moment to check and make sure he hadn’t actually lost any teeth, Gaddes caught himself just before he spat out the blood in his mouth.  He wasn’t quite sure what was considered to be proper decorum when dealing with a mouth full of blood, but he was pretty sure that spitting it out onto the floor of a king’s room wasn’t acceptable.  Especially when said king was ready to kill him.

“He ran into Merle.”  He grumbled, finally deciding to just swallow the damn blood.  Ugh, it tasted disgusting and made his stomach churn, but it was better than being hit again.

“What?!”  Once again, that fierce stare was fixed on him and Gaddes mentally kicked himself.  One day, he was going to learn to keep his damn mouth shut… but it seemed that today was not that day.  At this rate, he was going to be dead before supper.

“She insulted him or something.  I wasn’t all that close when the scrap started.  He jumped up into the tree, threw some knives at her.  She attacked back, chased him around the training grounds for a bit while he toyed with her.”  The king looked sick at the thought and while there was a spiteful part of Gaddes that wanted to make him suffer a little for punching him, his better nature quickly took over.

“Don’t worry, she’s alright.”  He assured the distraught king.  “It looked like one of his stupid dominance games.  She wasn’t hurt, but damn she was seriously trying to take his head off.  He got her pinned, looked like he said some pretty nasty things to her, then just let her up.”

“He… he didn’t hurt her?”  There was so much hope in Van’s eyes that Gaddes felt like he could forgive the kid almost anything… almost anything.  His jaw really friggin hurt!

“No, she might have a bruise or two, but that’s the worst of it.  He made her part of the unit.”

“HE WHAT!!?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the general consensus.  He even terrorized anyone who had the balls to speak up against it.  Came about a second or two away from taking their actual balls too.  She agreed though, the kitten is going to be an alseides pilot.  Surprise.”

Van didn’t look anymore impressed than the soldiers had been, but he hid it much better.

“What the hell was he thinking!?  Merle doesn’t know how to fight!  She’s a kitten for Gaea’s sake!”  Alright, not that much better. 

“I honestly have no idea what’s going through his mind anymore… I was sort of hoping that you did.  I know that I’m just going to make things worse if I bug him, so I was hoping for your help.  Look… it’s over between us, I know that and I do believe it’s what’s right… I just… forgot.  I was so happy to see him, and I ended up fucking up any chance I might have of ever getting him back.”  He was sort of hoping that he would get a word of encouragement from the king, anything really, but instead, Van turned away from him.

“You’re right.”  He said simply.  “You won’t be getting him back.”  And that’s when it hit him.  The feather, how furious Van was, how protective.  Sweet Jeture, that had to be how Dilandau was able to push him away too.  He’d been replaced.  Dilandau had a new anchor.

“You…”  He could feel his eyes grow wide and his jaw drop in his shock, but he couldn’t keep from speaking, and likely burying himself too deep to ever crawl out of.  “You and him!?  You fucked him!?”

Van winced at the vulgarity of the words but turned around to face Gaddes, his expression proud and defiant.  He didn’t deny it.

“But… he burned your country to the ground!  He murdered your countrymen!  Jeture’s balls Van, he hunted you mercilessly for a year and a fucking half!  How could you be fucking him!?”  Oh of all the stupid idiotic…At this point, he just wanted to bang his head into the nearest wall until the world started making sense again.

“He also kept me alive when they tortured us!”  Van shot back.  “He fought and bled for me, he did everything he could to keep me safe and keep my spirits up.  He saved the lives of others when I begged him to leave them and if it hadn’t been for him, I know without a doubt that I’d have died in that damn cell.”

“So you be grateful to him!  You don’t fuck him!”  Yeah, he really should have kept his damn mouth shut because once again, with a flap of those shining wings, Van was right back in his face with murder glinting in his eyes.

“I’ve already had this talk with Allen and unlike him, you have no say at all over what either of us do.  You threw him away Gaddes, you ripped his heart out and left me to try to keep him alive in the aftermath.  We’re together.  We’re in love and if you dare so much as lay a finger on him EVER again, I will turn you inside out and leave you screaming into your guts for all eternity.”  Damn if in that exact moment he didn’t believe that the king was telling the complete and utterly terrifying truth.

“Allen knows about you!?”

“Yes, and he’s allowed me to court him properly, so deal with it Gaddes.  I at least had the balls to do what you didn’t.  I’m not going to keep him as a dirty secret.  I love him.  I love our children and I will not let anyone come between us.”

“CHILDREN!?!?!”  Gaddes didn’t need the wall to hit his head against.  The floor served that purpose just fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, poor Gaddes. This is not his day. He and Allen will join each other in a pub and just both quietly curse the two crazy teenagers in their lives. But hey, Merle got a job! I've been planning this for a bit so I'm happy to finally reach that point. The poor kid really needs more screen time. She's so much fun to write after all.  
> Next Chapter: "With an earthshattering kaboom!"


	28. A Small Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our delightful duo learn just how quickly a day can go downhill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second last chapter! So, this book was pretty much completed over NaNoWriMo, I've just been doing clean up for the last bit and I hope you enjoy it. Still home bound with my gimpy leg and physio therapy is teaching me new levels of pain and suffering. As such, I felt that it was my duty to pass this on to my characters. Suffer as I suffer!!! MUAHAHAHA. I really hope you all have enjoyed reading this second book because I've adored writing it and I have one more book to round this out. WOOOT.  
> Anyway, on with the show!

            “Mmm, what do you think we should do today?”  Van asked, swallowing back a yawn and attempted to stretch despite the pale arm draped lazily over his chest, preventing him from moving too much.  “We should order a servant to bring us breakfast in bed, not get up until noon… then have a nice hot bath and refuse to see anyone.”

“Fuck Fanel, you talk too much.”  Dilandau grumbled from beneath the blankets, visible only by a few strands of moonlight white hair sticking out.  The draping arm tightened, pulling him tight against the dragonslayer, making it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere soon.

“You’re the one who decided to give a crash course in guymelef maintenance before dawn.”  Van pressed, amused despite himself.  “Then cap it off by deciding to have a night of debauchery.  Not that I’m complaining mind you.”  He added quickly, just in case he gave the wrong impression.

“I was young and stupid back then.  I’m much older and wiser now.”  A second arm joined the first in wrapping around the king, ensuring that he wasn’t escaping the soft confines of the bed anytime soon.  The warmth was rather addictive, as was the solid strength of those arms.  Any desire to leave said bed was rapidly dwindling away.

“Not too much wiser I hope.”  Van chuckled in sleepy amusement.  “I think I sort of enjoy having you drag me into trouble over and over.”

“Bah, liar.  You say that now, but the next time I blow up something it will be nothing but bitch bitch bitch.”  The blankets shifted just enough for pale lips to brush across his throat, their teasing touch sending tingling pleasure through Van’s body before the bearer of said lips retreated back into the soft warmth of their cloth cave.  Well two could play at that game.  Grabbing an edge of the blanket, he slipped further into the little cocoon the dragonslayer seemed to have made for himself, pressing up against that warm silken skin, his hands beginning to wander playfully.

“And you causing an explosion is a given?”  He could make out a single crimson eye watching him from the depths of the blankets, shining with amusement.

“Hmph, have you met me?”

“Point taken…so should I just begin complaining pre-emptively?”  The king grinned for a moment before he was met by a fierce growl and was tackled beneath the blankets, skillfully silencing any further complaints he might voice.

 

“I can’t believe you made me late.”  Dilandau grumbled as he fastened the last of the many buckles on his jacket while striding down the palace hallway.  Van followed close at his heels, his cheeks still cherry red from his previous… exertions.  At least his clothing was much simpler to put on and he’d clad himself in his familiar tawny trousers and simple red shirt, much to Dilandau’s disgust.

“You’re still fifteen minutes early for this lesson thing.”  The darker teen protested, checking to make sure he had his sword hanging correctly on his belt.  It was the fifth time he’d checked in the past ten minutes and he knew that he’d be checking it a few more times in the near future.  After going so long without the Sword of Fanelia hanging from his hip and thought lost for all time, he was loathe to let it out of his line of sight for any reason.

“Fifteen minutes early IS being late.”  Dilandau pressed, sounding so disgusted with himself that Van felt it was best to not point out that it was the dragonslayer’s fault for their tardiness.  Evidence of this decorated his entire body with fresh bruises and love bites.  The pale teen had originally suggested that he wear a jacket to cover up the signs of their early morning lovemaking, but Van knew that the instant he started to work up a sweat, he’d take it off, and then everyone would see for themselves.  Might as well get it out of the way first thing.

“You realize that makes no sense, right?”  He grumbled at his partners strange sense of time, giving his head a somewhat exasperated shake.  “Is this a Zaibach thing?  Or a Dilandau is crazy thing?  Because really, it could be either.”

“It’s a professional pride thing Fanel, perhaps you should look into it… you know, along with how to dress like a superior officer.”  Alright, Van had to admit, he’d sort of walked into that one, but he was comfortable with how he dressed and knew that he was going to be much more comfortable in his loose shirt and pants than Dilandau was going to be in his fancy leathers uniform.

“You’re just wearing that jacket to hide the fact that your neck looks like you got choked by an octopus.” 

“So say’s the octopus.”

“I take pride in my work.”  Van shot back, rather pleased that he’d managed that quip rather than dissolving into a puddle of stammering embarrassment.  He’d come a long way over the past half colour and damn right he was going to take pride in the fact that he’d managed to make the most beautiful being in the kingdom into his husband.  Even thinking it made him smile widely as a surge of pleasure rippled through him.  Husband… he was married. 

He couldn’t wait to be able to proclaim it to all the lands, to have Dilandau stand at his side, partners forever.  It didn’t matter what his advisors said, or his people.  It was destiny, it was glorious beyond words.  It was… it was… oh gods.  Merle was going to kill him!

That thought made him skid to a sudden stop as dread squashed the warm bubbly feeling which had been filling him all morning.  Realizing that the other had stopped, Dilandau paused and glanced over his shoulder, concern flitting over his face.

“What is it?”  He asked, feeling the very real worry echo over their bond and wondered what had set it off this time.

“Did you … you know… have to make Merle a soldier?”  Van’s voice was almost timid sounding and it earned him a lip curling sneer from the dragonslayer.

“That’s what you’re worried about?”  He found himself asking, more than a little shocked.  “She’s quick, vicious, much stronger than she looks, and willing to stand against certain death to see that you’re safe.  Yes, I think she would make a wonderful soldier.  My question is why in the name of fate didn’t you see her trained before this… then I remember that you’re a backwards barbarian who believes that women are only for breeding.”

“I don’t think that!”

“Oh?  How many women warriors are there in Fanelia?”

“…that’s not the point.  Why Merle?”

“The reasons I already stated aren’t enough?”  Dilandau smiled slightly and walked over to Van.  “Look, she’s going to follow you around no matter what, right?”  Though Van wanted to deny this, he knew that their past record counted against him in this.  She’d stayed at his side all through the war, no matter how bad or dangerous it got, she was always there, ready to help with a smile on her face.

“Of course she will, that’s been proven already.”  Dilandau continued blithely, not giving Van a chance to argue, even if he wanted to.

“So if she’s going to be wandering into danger with you, wouldn’t you rather she know how to protect herself?”

“Big difference between protecting herself and actively fighting in a warzone.” 

“The war is coming no matter what Van and we’re going to need every skilled warrior we can get.  It makes no sense to cut out half the population, and don’t give me that garbage about women not being able to fight.  You’ve seen the females in the RedPaws fight, you’ve seen those damn cat twins and I assure you that if you told Sibille that she couldn’t fight because she was a woman, she’d hand you your balls before you knew what happened.  That woman butchered a basrami general three weeks before giving birth to Dallet and Regis.  Don’t underestimate them.  Oh, and Celena says that she’ll kick your ass if you don’t let Merle fight.”

That more than anything made him shudder.  Celena was scary enough when she wasn’t armed and motivated.  He had no desire to be on her bad side.  As for Sibille, he hadn’t seen the woman fight before, but if even Dilandau was impressed with her skill, that made her truly terrifying.

“I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t need to like it, but you do need to accept it.  She’ll be seeking your approval and if you tell her you don’t want her picking up a sword, she’ll never touch one again.  If you do that, I swear on every vagary of fate that I will kick your ass.”

“Fine fine.”  Van grumbled softly, then heaved a heavy sigh.  “I… I suppose I’m sort of not looking forward to her finding out that we’re… together.”

“Hmph, and they say romance is dead.”  Dilandau chuckled in amusement, grabbing onto Van’s arm and tugging him along towards the training grounds.  “Besides, she already knows.”

“SHE WHAT!??!”

“She knows.”  It was infuriating to Van that his horror was met with little more than a shrug and a smirk.  The pale scrawny bastard was enjoying himself!  “Honestly Van, she does have a good sense of smell, and a simple shower isn’t going to take away the scent of what we get up to.”

“Oh gods of Gaea, I’m a dead man.”

“Always a possibility.  She was rather furious over the whole thing.”

“So you gave her a sword and access to a war machine?!?!  I was right.  You really are insane.”

“I also paired her up with a bigoted noble.”

Van had no words.  Literally no words to express his exasperation over this.  Instead, he smacked the palm of his hand against his face and waited for the world to stop kicking him.  The very idea of simply surviving the day just got so much harder.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“And yet just a few minutes ago you were singing my praises”

“That’s because you weren’t talking.”  Van shot back quickly, earning himself a rather throaty chuckle from the dragonslayer.  He didn’t look the least bit repentant, not that the king was expecting it at all, but it would have been nice.

“On a serious note,”  Dark eyes glanced over at the albino as they resumed their walk.  As if sensing what the topic of the conversation was going to be, Van could see Dilandau’s shoulders tense slightly and his pace quicken.  “Are you going to be alright with Gaddes being there?”

“Of course.”  The dragonslayer replied a tad too quickly for Van’s liking.  The taller youth was a terrible liar and the king saw right through him with ease.

“Dilandau.”  Van stopped walking and looked at his lover, his partner.  “Stop walking for a moment.”

“We’re going to be late Fanel.”  Ugh, of all the stubborn pig headed…

“I know about what happened with Gaddes.”  He blurted out, noting that Dilandau came to a sudden stop, radiating tension that you could cut with a knife.

“The bond?”  At least the pale youth wasn’t trying to deny it.

“No, not really.  It’s hard to read the bond when we’re not really close to each other.”  He admitted somewhat sheepishly, promising himself that he was going to fix that as quickly as possible. One day, they might be separated and need each other.  There was no way he was going to let himself be blindsided again.

“Gaddes told me.”

“….oh.”  Dilandau licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and took a deep breath before turning to face Van, his stance aggressive and ready to attack if the king even dared to chastise him.

“He didn’t realize that we had a relationship.”

“I didn’t fuck him if that’s what you’re wondering.”  Those crimson eyes narrowed in challenge, but Van kept his hands at his side, careful to not go anywhere near his sword just in case that was misinterpreted.

“I wasn’t accusing you Dilandau.”  He stated, a patient smile gracing his lips.  “In fact, I wanted to let you know that I’m proud of you, and deeply impressed.  He said that you refused him, that you pushed him away.”

“Well… I was furious at him.  He’d thrown me away like last week’s scraps.  I’m no man’s scraps.”  Fierce pride echoed beneath those words and Van’s smile grew wider.  He truly did love this brave and stubborn man.

“No,”  He agreed wholeheartedly.  “You most certainly are not.  But I wanted to make sure you were still alright working with him.  He’s still your second in command.  If you don’t feel comfortable working with him, send him away and we can work on an excuse for it later.”

“I don’t need an excuse.”  Dilandau huffed haughtily.  “I’m a professional soldier.  I work with people I loathe all the time.  Sometimes they even survive the experience.”

It was hard not to roll his eyes at that, though truthfully, he had no doubt that the other teen wasn’t bluffing.  Well, two could play at that game.

“Alright, but just so you know, he’ll look like hell today.”  Well, that certainly got Dilandau’s attention and the dragonslayer looked at him with renewed interest.

“Oh?”

“When he told me about what happened… I might have punched him… in the face… repeatedly.”  Heat flushed through Van’s cheeks as he admitted to assaulting the sergeant.  Rather than grow furious at having stuck his nose in where it likely hadn’t been wanted, Dilandau looked utterly dumbstruck.

“You… you what?”

“I punched him… three or four times in the face… not really sure.” 

“Why?”  Alright, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting.  Caught somewhat off guard, Van luckily didn’t have to search for an answer.  He knew exactly why he’d done it.

“He didn’t give you a choice.”  Now it was brown eyes which burned with fierce fire and dark hands which clenched into tight fists.  “He tried to force himself on you.  I don’t care if he realized it or not at the time but back there on the fortress, you were right.  You deserve to be able to make your choice on who your lover is and have it respected.”  As he spoke, he walked calmly over to the other teen, never once breaking that widened crimson stare.

“You… defended me from an anchor?”  Did he have to sound so shocked?  Then it hit him that Dilandau had never likely had anyone ever step in and beat an anchor down for trying to take advantage of him.  All his life, he’d grown up knowing that no one was going to defend him, that he was alone in a very cold and cruel world.

“Yes, and I will again if you wish.  I told him that if he so much as touches you, I’d… er… turn him inside out and force him to live like that… I was a tad more graphic about it though.”

You’d have thought that someone had handed the beautiful youth a flamethrower with unlimited fuel, the way his face lit up with fierce wild joy.

Before Van knew what was happening, he’d been swept up in a tight embrace, hot searing lips found his own, kissing him deeply with the passion of a thousand burning suns.  He could feel the electrical rush along each and every one of his nerves until even his very toes tingled.

Unable to help himself, he kissed back just as fiercely, his fingers tangling in those silvery white silken locks.  For a few precious seconds, he stroked it, savoring that perfect softness, then his fingers tightened, holding the dragonslayer’s head still as he stared deep into those gloriously molten ruby eyes.

“I also beat the crap out of him because you’re mine.”  He hissed softly, fully ready in that moment to flat out murder anyone who looked askance at his husband.  “Nobody hurts what’s mine.”

Most people would have scoffed at the display or gotten angry at the possessiveness radiating from the king.  Dilandau was the exact opposite.  He practically preened at the fervent attention, basking in it’s glory like the unique and prized treasure he knew he was.

“Mmmm, I do believe I rather like this new you.”  The dragonslayer purred, his eyes grew heated even as a wide sensual smile pulled at his lips.  “Shall we clear out the guymelef shed and have a little fun again?”

“You have a class to teach.  Professionalism and all that, right?”  Van couldn’t help but smirk a little as Dilandau allowed himself a soft snarl of irritation as his own words were neatly thrown back at him.

“Bastard.  Fine fine, but for that, I’m giving you the dirtiest jobs.”

“That just means that you’ll get dirty later when I have my way with you.”  He grinned, truly enjoying being on the winning side of this battle and mentally gave himself a little point on his mental score card when Dilandau swore once more and stalked away.  Though he sounded furious, the king could feel the pleased hum through their bond and knew that he’d impressed the pale captain far more than he’d ever willingly let on.

Grinning widely, Van happily followed Dilandau out onto the still dark and mist shrouded training ground towards the only guymelef shed with a light shining from within.  No doubt the other soldiers in this Alpha squad waited.

 

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding when you said that you’d used his face as a punching bag.”  Dilandau breathed as they came within sight of the others standing just outside the shed.  The group of them were all gathered around each other, shivering slightly in the chill of the morning air, though none of them dared to be the first one to complain despite the fact that their breaths were visible with every exhalation.

Gaddes towered over all of them despite leaning heavily against the wall of the shed.  The heavy bruising to his face clearly visible in the torchlight even at the distance the two teens were at and Dilandau couldn’t help but be rather impressed.  Both of the man’s eyes had been blackened, one to the point that it was swelling shut in a rather impressive manner.  His nose looked like it might be broken, and his lip was split in two places.  The fact that the Gaddes was on his feet at all said a great deal about how tough he was, and how determined he was to try to start over on better footing.

“I… might have gone a little overboard.”  Van bit his lip, feeling a sudden flush of shame at seeing what he’d done to his friend.

“Nope, you did just the right amount.”  Dilandau couldn’t quite keep from smiling at his lover, inwardly pleased that the king would be moved to such violence on his behalf.

“Lord VAN!”  Merle practically shrieked, alerting everyone to their arrival as she bounded over towards them, only to stop short when she realized that her beloved leader stood with her nemesis.  Just seeing the wide grin on her face fall made Dilandau smile just a little bit wider.

“Conduct yourself with dignity soldier.”  He chided her coldly.  Merle looked like she was about to say something which would likely get her beaten by the albino, but Van quickly stepped between them.  While he wasn’t about to undermine Dilandau, he certainly wasn’t going to sit back and allow his childhood friend to be hurt.

“It’s good to see you Merle, he’s right though.  You’re a soldier.”  He favoured the kitten with a pride filled smile.  “I’m surprised though.  I didn’t think you wanted to learn how to fight.”  It was hard to ignore how she was sniffing at him, horror and disgust growing on her face despite her lackluster attempts to hide it.

“Well.”  She stated, looking like she wanted to do nothing more than vomit at their mingled scents.  “It’s clear that you make terrible decisions when left on your own.”  Her long orange tail flicked back and forth several times as she favoured Dilandau with a murderous glare, making it clear which bad decision she was frowning on the most.   “You need me to keep you from doing anything too stupid.

“Of course… fat chance on that now.”  She continued, huffing loudly.  “But I have a sword and today I’m gonna learn how to pilot one of those big tin cans, so watch out Lord Van.  I’m gonna kick your ass soon.”

“Oh yeah?  Don’t get too far ahead of yourself.”  Van couldn’t help but grin in return, enjoying the challenge she was throwing down.  “I still have the Escaflowne.”

“Unfortunately, you’re going to be learning the alseides for right now.”  Dilandau cut in.  “Even if you’re not going to pilot one regularly.  I want you to know how they work and how to conduct maintenance on one.  If anything ever happened that made Escaflowne unavailable, or we weren’t trying to tell everyone and their damned dog that the king of Fanelia was in the area, you’ll need to use one.”

“I can be stealthy!”

“Of course you can… that’s why I always had SUCH a hard time finding you.”

“Oh don’t you dare give me that smirk Mr.  It’s been three hours since I’ve caused an explosion!”

“It’s been fifteen hours.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Merle stared at the two of them bickering, a shocked look on her face as she looked from one teen to the other, suddenly beginning to believe that perhaps there actually was a reason the two of them had found each other.  She’d never seen Van so animated and relaxed.  After Hitomi had left, it was as if the light had gone out of his eyes and she’d spent so many days worrying for her beloved friend.  It was just… if only he’d chosen better company than the psychotic warlord who’d caused them all so much pain.

“I might have to scratch out my partner’s eyes.”  She mentioned casually, breaking up their argument with the idle threat, taking a moment to examine her nails.  “You picked a terrible partner for me.”

“Oh?  Keep in mind that if he is blinded then he can’t pilot his unit effectively, which then looks bad on you.”  Dilandau replied, not sounding concerned in the least.

“Why did you partner me with Dumbass?  I don’t like him.”

“You don’t have to like him.  The two of you have skills which will compliment each other well, once you both get your heads out of your asses.”  The captain replied simply.  “It’s up to the two of you to get past your silly problems and grow up into soldiers.  Or you’ll die in battle.”

“Real ray of sunshine there Dilandau.”  Van butted in, rolling his eyes, though he had to admit that he could see the captain’s logic.  They had to work together, and their lives would depend on each other.  If they couldn’t work together, it would weaken the team.  Granted, they still had to see if Mr. Hypocrite could work with Gaddes, or if Van was going to be forced to murder the sergeant in his sleep.

Speaking of, the sergeant was cautiously walking towards them all, the rest of the group watching with obvious interest.  While Regis was the only one who really knew anything, the others weren’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination and they all knew that something truly gossip worthy was going on.  Thankfully, none of them were stupid enough to butt in… so far.

“So…”  Gaddes ran a hand through his hair somewhat nervously as he approached, wincing slightly as he touched several hidden bruises.  It didn’t escape Van how the man’s dark grey eyes seemed to focus on each and every one of the love bites dotting his tanned skin.  Rather than duck away blushing, the young king stood his ground proudly.

They all watched as the older man groped for words which would likely define how their professional relationship was going to progress from here on.  Naturally, none of them helped him, each one waiting, their eyes fixed on him until finally Gaddes just blurted out the first thing on the tip of his tongue.

“If you want me to leave the team, I will.  This is your unit Dilandau.  I know that, and I won’t interfere.  I just… I know that words don’t mean shit after what I did… but I’m sorry.  Words can’t express how sorry I am.”  The two youths stared at him stone faced while Merle’s head swung back and forth, trying to take everything in while working out just which one of them had turned the sergeant’s face into mulch.

“You’re right.”  Dilandau said after what felt like a short eternity.  “Your words mean shit to me, especially your apologies and you’re not getting out of this so easily.  I could kill you you know.  Legally I have every fucking right and even Schezar would support it.”  Gaddes winced but nodded his head, looking thoroughly miserable.

“You have three choices right now.”  The captain continued ruthlessly in a voice so cold that it could freeze fire.  “You walk away like you’d originally intended to.  Wash your hands of me, of everything we’re working on here and know that the next time I lay eyes on you, I will slit your fucking throat without batting an eye.”

Merle couldn’t quite resist making a soft sound of shock at his words, more importantly, in Gaddes’ lack of denial or defense.  What had he done to piss the albino off that badly?  From what she’d known last, they’d been lovers… back before he’d stolen Van.  Clearly it was a bad breakup… really bad if one went by his face.

“Your second choice is to challenge me to an honour duel.  Seeing as how I can’t fight you, Van would stand as my second, and I’m sure you know exactly how much mercy you can expect from him.”  Dilandau continued.  “And by the way, we’d be doing it Zaibachi style, none of this Astorian frippery.”  Van cracked his knuckles for emphasis and the larger man actually paled at the sound.

“Third choice is that you shut the fuck up about it and do your damn job.  You work your ass off for this unit, you remember that I am your leader and I will treat you like the subordinate you are.  You will watch what you say around me and mind your hands if you wish to keep them.”  Dilandau’s eyes narrowed dangerously, a strange glow flickering in their depths.  “And if you EVER give me an order, my men will rip your soul out of your screaming carcass before you can blink.  They will shred it and cast it to the four winds and you will never even see the Paths of the Dead, but I warn you that you will feel every single bit of what they do to you.”

Gaddes went even paler and Merle shivered as the already chill morning air grew positively frigid.  She could feel the hair all over her body standing on end and her ears flattened in fear.  There was the unmistakable feel of death in the air, and judging by how terrified the sergeant looked in that moment, she wasn’t the only one to feel it.

“I promise, sir.”  He stated, bowing politely, though his eyes never left either of the teens.  “I choose the third choice, sir.”

“Good.”  Dilandau replied crisply before striding past the man as if he wasn’t there.  Van followed at his side, the two moving in perfect tandem as if they’d coordinated the movement.  “Now let’s get this lesson started.”

 

Van was torn between watching Dilandau patiently instruct the group, and studying the other youths recruited for this unit.  He’d seen the young slight teen named Tobias during that first class nearly two colours ago and had been impressed with the boy’s quick strikes and aggressive techniques.  He seemed to be quiet and thoughtful, almost reminding him of Ignis.  His skin was a warm light brown with even darker hair.  This hair was fascinating to Van, being pulled back into tight thin braids which then had been pulled back from his face for practice.  His face was exotic in shape, broader than he was used to seeing, but still appealing and strong.  Likely the son of some wealthy merchant lord and at least part astorian judging by his brilliant blue eyes.

Next to him stood Regis, tall, elegant and pale.  He was everything Van wasn’t and stared at Dilandau with open worship as the captain patiently explained and showed the various systems they would be using.  Van wanted to hate him for being a sorcerer apprentice, for being zaibachi, for being beautiful.  Even his bright strawberry hair annoyed him with its garish colouring.  But dammit if the guy wasn’t friendly and easy going, brushing off Van’s dark looks without issue, all of his attention fixed on the captain.

Just off to the side was another beast-kin.  Tiger clan by the look of it and from what Dilandau had said, he was a merchant’s cub who wanted to fight and seemed more than capable of holding his own.  At first Van had been happy to see him, hoping that he and Merle had been fast friends, but within two seconds, he’d realized that the two barely tolerated each other and made a point to keep as much space between themselves as possible, bristling when the other got too close.

Then there was the unfortunate Dumbass who was still suffering from Dilandau’s ire.  Slight and not overly tall, much like the others, he had a few inches on Van likely due to being two years his senior.  Still, Van took small comfort in knowing that he likely outweighed the other teen and was certainly stronger.  His hair was a rich black and his eyes were a brilliant blue, a striking combination what with his cream coloured skin. 

Astorian noble born through and through, his pale face was a study of boredom and indifference though his eyes watched everything with keen interest, not missing anything.  He’d gone out of his way to be polite to Van, but hadn’t spent much time speaking to any of the others, feeling that they were beneath him.

Dilandau had already explained to them all that others would be joining the unit and that if they gave them any problems or attitude, they would be sent to the healers in pieces.  Seeing as how Van knew that he was referring to Ignis and Irma arriving, he was more than happy to help in any evisceration the captain deemed required.  He wasn’t going to let anyone look down on his siblings… oh who was he kidding?  They were his children.  It was time he started admitting it to himself.  If Dilandau could do it, he could… and besides, the idea of having children still thrilled him right down to his core.

Most likely, they wouldn’t come alone.  Van could imagine that the dragonslayer would give their little troupe up on the floating fortress a chance to pilot the alseides as well if they wished, so long as he saw potential in them.  They’d discussed it a little last night after… other activities.

Yes, Astoria was going to get quite the shock when they saw their elite defenders, but honestly, Van was more than a little proud of their diversity.  There would be people from all walks of life, several countries and even different genders all stepping forward to defend Gaea.  It was like the allied forces from the war, only on a much smaller scale and hopefully much more organized.

“Van pay attention while I’m instructing, or you’ll blow yourself up activating the wrong system during a battle.”  Dilandau snapped, pulling the king out of his reverie with a voice like a cracking whip.  Next to him, Merle snickered softly, shooting him a sly look.

“Ooooh, trouble in paradise…”

“Yes sir.  Sorry sir.”  Van replied quickly, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly in embarrassment.

“I doubt that, but you will be.”  The captain replied.  “Since you seem to believe that you don’t need to pay attention during my instructions, do hop in and show us some of your wisdom.”  The look Dilandau shot him made it clear that refusal was not an option and Van swallowed audibly as he approached the raised platform the dragonslayer stood on. 

Smiling evilly, Dilandau motioned towards the open cockpit with a grand gesture, challenge lighting up his eyes.

“Er… haven’t these things killed people?”  Van found himself asking, only to receive an even crueller smile in answer.  “Are you serious?”

“Next time pay attention while I’m speaking.” 

“I was!”

“Oh, were you now?”  He really didn’t trust the look he was being given.  “Then feel free to tell me what system the left thumb toggle on the right hand activates.”  Dammit!  Van quickly tried to sort through all the various and mind-boggling systems he remembered hearing the dragonslayer mention and really wished that the rest of the group weren’t all watching him with interest.  It must have been obvious that he had no idea what the answer was because more than one set of eyes had an almost predatory light behind them.

“Er…the flamethrower?”  Sighing loudly, Dilandau shook his head in disappointment.

“That just earned you an extra lap around the gardens before class.”  Oh that just wasn’t fair!  “Now then, who has the answer I’m looking for?”

Several hands shot up in the air and Van couldn’t help but notice that even Merle was bouncing up and down, eager to share her knowledge.  Traitor.

“Cassian?”

“That would be the targeting system sir.”

“Good to see that some people were listening.  Would you care to lie to me again Fanel?”

“…no…. er... no sir.”  He really wasn’t liking having to bend to Dilandau’s authority and privately swore to take it out of the other youth’s pale hide later in private.  Oh, that bastard was going to rue the day he made a fool out of Van Fanel!

_: I can hear you, you know.;_

_: GODDAMMIT!:_

_: That’s two extra laps before class.:_

_: Are you serious?  I’m going to be dead on my feet!:_

_: Just get into the damn machine.  I’ve already killed most of the systems, you won’t accidentally kill anyone or yourself by pushing the wrong button.  I plan on using this one as a simulator.:_

Shooting Dilandau a look heavy with suspicion, Van carefully stepped into the cramped cockpit and looked around.  There was a greater freedom of movement than inside Escaflowne, where his arms were encapsulated in hydraulic sleeves, but that also meant that it wasn’t nearly as intuitive as he was used to.  Worse, it was packed full of all sorts of strange devices and wires, none of them looked safe and he could just imagine how much worse this would be when filled with crima fluid.  Gods of Gaea, there wasn’t even an opening for fresh air to enter! 

The cockpit closed up around him, sealing him in darkness for several seconds before the systems came online, bathing him in a strange bluish purple glow.

“I’m not flooding the cockpit this time.”  Dilandau’s voice echoed through some hidden speaker.  “I’ve put in a request for proper uniform leathers to be worn at all times when you’re on duty.  They will handle the liquid metal without decomposing or worse, becoming caught in any of the systems.  Merle, Cassian, you both have the options of either shaving your tails or binding them.  If you don’t, you will risk a short during flight.  The same goes for anyone with long hair.  I expect it to be cut or bound up and out of the metal, that means above your shoulders while on duty.”

There was a sharp rapping sound on the hull of the guymelef that echoed strangely in the ensuing silence.

“How are you doing in there, Van?”

“It’s claustrophobic.”  He replied, unsure if Dilandau could even hear him.  The air tasted wrong… almost stale and he could already feel it growing uncomfortably warm around him.  “Why are there no vents for air?”

“Because then you’d be torn apart and blinded during flight.”  The dragonslayer replied.  “There are state of the art air filtration systems located just behind the pilot chair in the chest.  If you flick the switch right in front of you, that will activate the HUD and allow you a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view.”  Reaching out a somewhat nervous hand, Van did as ordered and fought back a yelp of surprise when the front of the cockpit suddenly revealed the hangar in front of him.  While it wasn’t as clear as looking through his own two eyes, it did offer an unobstructed view which was a far cry superior to what he was used to.

Looking at the display, then the various tools and systems cluttering the cockpit, Van felt those familiar memories fill his mind of the time’s he’d shared Dilandau’s mind and memories, living his life, commanding the Dragonslayers. 

Next to the button for the HUD were the controls for tracking of his team, the crima system controls, and the beacon.  Over his head was an emergency ejection lever, the door controls and temperature controls along with readouts.

Stretching out his fingers, he could feel the various toggles and buttons beneath them and knew that they controlled the claw configurations, flame functions as well as flight controls.

It was strange feeling comfortable in a machine he’d never even really seen before, knowing how to operate something using the memories of another.  Thankfully, there’d been enough strangeness in his life that he accepted it all easily enough and even began to idly wonder if Dilandau could intuitively operate the Escaflowne… that is, if it didn’t explode on him again.

“Over the winter, we’ll be training every day in the simulators until I feel that you’re ready to take out active models.  Once that happens, I will be expecting you to train until you can operate it as easily as you do your own body.  I’ve been told that this system is a bitch to learn, but I expect you to be flawless and ready for battle when the time comes.  Never forget, the Alseides is NOT a forgiving system.  It will continue to be operational with sixty five percent damage to its body, but if you overload a system, it will kill you in seconds.  Don’t take them for granted.

“Each machine will be calibrated for a single pilot.  It will have your measurements in it’s logs and you can program your preferred attacks into the system as well.  Do not use someone else’s machine without doing a full diagnostic and recalibration or you will die.  These machines work best when they’ve been personalized, so take damn good care of the one you’ve been assigned to.  If you don’t, it will kill you.”

“Er… sir… I’m sort of noticing a theme here.”  Tobias murmured softly, sounding somewhat unsure about the risk level of this deal.  “There seems to be a rather high chance of death.”

“Welcome to war.”  The captain replied coldly.  “Respect your tools, take care of them and they will help you through battle.  Treat them as toys and they’ll turn on you.  If you feel that you are not ready to put that level of faith in your skill and determination, then back out now.”

“Hmph, like hell.”  Merle grumbled loud enough for Van to hear.    
            “Alright Van, hop out and let someone else have a taste.”  Dilandau knocked against the hull a few times and Van could feel a warm pulse of pride from their bond.

_: What did you think?:_   The question was asked casually, but he could feel the layers beneath it.  Knowing how much the dragonslayer loved the mass-produced machines, the king knew that any insults wouldn’t go over well, not that he really had any.

_: A little tight and I can tell that the controls are going to be hell to learn.  I completely agree with why you didn’t want anyone with previous classical guymelef experience.  I’m lucky that I have your memories to work with, but it’s still nowhere near as intuitive as Escaflowne.:_

_: But did you like it?:_

_: Yeah… yeah I did.:_   Van allowed a warm smile to grace his lips as he pulled the lever, causing the cockpit top open up, dropping the front down to create a little ramp. _: I think it’s going to be a lot of fun learning how to fight in it.:_

 

They all had their turn sitting in the cockpit, familiarizing themselves with the feel of the machine and get used to the cramped conditions.  Thankfully no one turned out to be claustrophobic and everyone had a brilliant smile on their faces as they exited.  It was all real to them now, the chance to become an elite pilot, to learn to control a machine that few on Gaea ever got to see let alone used.  The prospect of war seemed to very far away as they listened as the various system functions were discussed at length. 

The only problem seemed to be when Dilandau produced a rather thick manual for them all to read through.  Several of the recruits looked at the book, flipping through the pages, concern growing on their faces.

Curious, Van looked at the book then had to bite back a laugh.

“Sir.”  He stated loudly, having somehow become the unofficial spokesperson for their unit.  “The manual is in zaibachi.”

“Of course it is.”  The dragonslayer replied, as if that was painfully obvious, then paused and actually listened to himself.  Swearing under his breath, he stalked over and snatched the book from Tobias’ hands.  “Empty fate… there are no translations for this damn thing either.” 

Grumbling loudly, Dilandau looked ready to put his fist through a wall out of sheer frustration and Van could actually feel him trying to readjust his already busy schedule to try to find the time to transcribe the thick volume into Astorian, a language he himself wasn’t overly literate in.

“If I might offer a suggestion sir?”  Van knew that there was a chance he could be hit for stepping in and offering an unsolicited solution, but thankfully, Dilandau was too distracted and waved his hand, indicating that the king should continue.  “Scholar Inverness is fluent in both Astorian and Zaibachi, he loves transcribing information and would likely be overjoyed to be able to translate this.” 

There was no need to point out that the old man seemed to have a soft spot for the short-tempered warrior, and vice versa.  His avarice regarding any information regarding Gaea’s most advanced and mysterious nation was also practically a thing of legend… and scorn at the court.  He really was the best option.

“Actually, that’s a brilliant idea.”  Dilandau murmured, glancing over at Van in surprise.  “I’ll speak to him after class about it.  By fate, I’ll find a way to pay him for his efforts too if he wants.”  There was no need to mention that being able to look at what was no doubt highly classified material was more than enough in the way of payment.  The scholar would be beside himself with delight.

“I second the motion.”  Dryden spoke up, walking up to the group, a wide smile on his face despite the early hour.  Perhaps not so early, the closer Van looked, the more convinced he was that the man hadn’t actually slept yet.  There was a certain redness to his eyes and the skin beneath was darker than normal. 

At his side was Millerna, elegant as always in her flowing gown, looking calm and well rested despite the fact that Van was sure she’d been up just as long as her husband.  He’d learned from Hitomi that women could hide a great many things with a skillful application of cosmetics.  No doubt the princess was also aware of this.

Both royals watched the group with interest, an interest which grew when they saw Merle within the ranks and Gaddes’ obvious injuries.  This time Van did blush deeply when those pairs of too shrewd eyes turned to him, noticing the many obvious love bites covering his body.  Dammit, he should have worn a jacket.

The heir couldn’t quite repress a grin and a wink as he held out his hand for the book.

“I’ll take it to the scholar myself and impress upon him our need for it’s speedy translation.”  He thumbed through a few pages, noting the detail of the pictures within.  The smile faded slightly as he realized the enormity of the task.  “It… er… wow.  That’s rather detailed.  It might take some time to translate.”

“So long as it’s accurate.”  Dilandau replied, giving the heir a brief nod of thanks.  “Regis, in your spare time you’ll help the scholar to the best of your abilities.  I’m sure you are fully literate in both languages?”

“Of course sir!”  Regis bowed deeply to his captain, not looking upset at all with the extra work that had just been dumped on his shoulders.

“I see that your statements of equality among your warriors wasn’t empty Lord Dilandau.”  Millerna stated, flashing Merle a warm smile of approval.  “If I may, would you mind if I asked amongst my ladies in waiting to see if any of them would be interested in learning the arts of war?”

“If they can pass my classes and my tests Your Highness, then I would gladly welcome them into one of my units.  I have a strong feeling that we’re going to need any willing sword we can get come spring.”

“Dire words indeed.”  She inclined her head slightly, studying the young captain, noting how he spoke and held himself.  There was something calmer about him, more centered than when she’d seen him two colours ago.  Of course, it made the fierce light in his eyes that much brighter and she knew that while the worst of his madness appeared to have been weathered, something else had taken its place.

She burned to know what had really happened in Freid, though knew better than to ask so bluntly.  If it was bad enough for him to lay waste to Godashim yet still have Van at his side, then it was something which should be discussed in private.

Even now, she could see the rest of the regiment arriving for their morning training.  The previous quiet of the courtyard was now filled with the buzz of conversation broken with the odd groan from sore and overtaxed muscles. 

No, definitely not the time or place for such a talk.

“Alright everyone.  Get in line for morning inspection!”  Dilandau barked loudly, motioning towards Gaddes to herd everyone out of the hangar, leaving himself and Van alone with the two royals for a few precious moments.

“When you both have a spare moment, Van and I have much to speak to you about.”  He stated, looking both of them in the eyes and holding their gaze.  “About Freid, about Basram and about what to expect when they do attack.  Heir Dryden, I also have a shipment of steel ingots which will likely be docking within the week.  I’d like to set up some intermediaries to arrange a formal purchase.  If you handle this, I’ll gladly sell them to you with only a twenty percent markup.”

“Dil- you… you can’t just make the heir of Astoria your middleman!”  Van sputtered, knowing that his jaw was practically on the floor over his lover’s audacity.  Not to mention the fact that he’d already arranged a profit from the sale from Norest himself, the dragonslayer stood to make a tidy fortune off of the sale.  Nonplussed, Dilandau simply crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the heir.

Ever the business man, Dryden considered the proposition, positive that there was a story behind it all.

“Ten percent.”  The heir countered with a smile, more curious than greedy.

“Come now Heir Dryden, we both know that the price of steel will skyrocket shortly once word of this war gets out.  This will cost you practically nothing and it will supply enough metal to arm a good chunk of your country with swords and armour or go towards the repair of guymelefs.  Either investment is priceless.  Eighteen percent.”

“Yes, but it’s still a costly endeavor and we need to mind every coin spent or it will be a rather thin and hungry winter for us all.  Fifteen percent.”

“Twenty percent and I introduce you to someone who can teach your engineers how to create hydroponic gardens, easing some of your food problems for the winter.”  That certainly got the heir’s attention and he couldn’t quite resist leaning forward in obvious interest.

“You honestly have someone who can do that?”  He’d heard about the mystical practice but never actually seen it first hand.

“I do.” The dragonslayer replied without flinching, even as Van shot him nervous looks.  Yes, Dryden was most definitely going to find out just what in Jetures name had been going on over the past two colours.  Only one group of people would know how to create such magic, and that was one of the Zaibach sorcerers, the very group Dilandau loathed beyond all others.  Why he would know of one and be willing to work with one was something he’d pay a great deal to know about. 

With the prospect of keeping his kingdom fed this season and ready for what was to come, it made the added five percent almost laughable.  He’d pay almost any price to keep his countrymen alive.

“Though in return for that knowledge, she and those she works with are to be granted amnesty.  She will not be sent back to zaibach for trials, nor will she face punishment here.  Her life is mine and I am the only one with the right to take it.”  Those crimson eyes narrowed in flat out challenge and Dryden had to admit that perhaps not all was forgiven between the captain and sorcerer.  In fact, judging by that look, a swift execution might actually be a kindness compared to what he would likely do to her when she ceased to be of use.

“Dilandau… are you sure?”  Van couldn’t help but ask.

“Hungry soldiers can’t fight worth shit.”  The captain replied.  “If we wish to survive, we need to ensure that we have the best chances we can arrange, and contrary to popular belief, I am not in the business of wasting lives.”

“Wise words.”  Dryden murmured.

“No, just practical.”  The captain glanced back at the war machines for a moment, then back at the royals.  “One addition.”  He stated.  “You set aside at least one garden to have it’s produce sent to Zaibach, and one for Fanelia.”

“The king won’t agree to feeding Zaibach.”

“Then the king will find himself with hungry people at his back, and even hungrier people on his flank while he tries to fight a war.  Your battle was with Emperor Dornkirk and Lord Folken during the Destiny War.  Stop torturing the people of Zaibach for their mistakes.” 

“He won’t acquiesce to threats.”  The heir couldn’t help but murmur despite fully agreeing with the pale captain.  He loathed how the people were being treated in that harsh country.  They’d been punished enough in his opinion, anything further was just going to result in genocide.  While there were many in the Allied Council who might agree to that course of action, he certainly wasn’t one of them.

“Then he should learn from history.  Zaibach is a harsh and brutal land.  Its value isn’t in its physical resources, but in the minds and wills of its people.  If you try to destroy them, then they will rise up once more and march across this land and you will have no one to blame but yourselves.  It might not be for generations, but is that a legacy you truly wish upon your descendants?  I can guarantee you that our memories are long lived, as is our sense of vengeance.

“However, we also remember our allies and those who have stood for us.  Enough blood has been paid.  We are standing up, ready to fight what is now the most technologically advanced country on Gaea and we are woefully unprepared.  They are backed by the best madoushi ever spawned from the Academy and in full possession of their files.  Yet here is a country full of brilliant minds and tools which could easily match the threat being posed if you gave them half the chance.  None are more loyal than an enemy converted to your cause Lord Dryden.”

“You sound a lot like Strategos Folken.”  Dryden mused, seeing the merits in this strategy.  More importantly, taking this path would go far towards easing his own growing guilt.  The biggest risk was the loyalty of their former enemies.  Few would wish to work with the technological nation.  The wounds were still too fresh, and King Aston was first among them.  Still, he always did enjoy a challenge.

“Fuck Folken.”  Dilandau spat with every bit of his familiar fire.  “I care about my country.  He only cared about his schemes.  Will you at least think about what I’ve said?”

“Yes, I honestly mean that.  I will also grant your sorcerer amnesty so long as she agrees to build these gardens.  She will however be under constant guard.”

“I will supply the guards.”  The dragonslayer stated.  “Your guards will terrorize her whether they intend to or not.  Believe me, there is no love lost between myself and that woman.  If she steps one toe out of line, I’ll slit her throat myself.”  No one in the room doubted that for a moment.

“One guard of Astorian loyalty along with your selection.  I cannot simply allow a Zaibach sorcerer to wander around with impunity.”

“Agreed.”  Only now did the dragonslayer smile, holding out his hand towards the heir.  Dryden had to laugh at the sheer brazenness of the albino youth.  He’d never met anyone quite like this fierce warlord and he loved how his twisted mind worked.  Aston had made a grave mistake in setting himself against this one.  It was a mistake the heir had no intention of copying.

He took the offered hand and shook it firmly, eager to see what would come of this arrangement.  So far it looked as if both groups, if not both kingdoms would prosper from it, but time would tell.

What truly interested him though was the inclusion of Fanelia in the list of those who would be fed from the sudden surplus.  That, paired with the rather interesting bruises covering Van, not to mention the mess covering Gaddes’ face made it clear that some loyalties had changed during their absence.

Yes, this would not be a boring winter.

“Also, Princess.”  Dilandau looked over at Millerna and bowed deeply in respect.  “It seems that you were right when you spoke during our first meeting.  Celena sends you her regards and wishes you to know that she remembers the woman who was always kind to her.  She’d like to speak to you at one point in the future, though I would ask you as a favour… no needlepoint.”  He sounded almost pained at the prospect, and Van couldn’t help but snicker, picturing the hot tempered and at times, downright vicious Celena sitting with the other ladies of the court on a nest of cushions, dressed in a gown bedecked with ribbons and jewels, patiently working on her cross stitch.

“She’s still… she exists?”

“Yes.”  Dilandau admitted with far less bitterness than one might expect.  “We’ve come to an arrangement, though I will warn you that she has little interest in regaining control over the body, she has mentioned that she wouldn’t mind trying a few experiences for herself.”

Practically glowing in delight, the princess curtseyed deeply, the motion well practiced and fluid.

“I would be honoured.  I do miss speaking with my friend.” 

Van was about to warn her that Celena likely was nothing like the quiet and mentally stunted girl she remembered, but even as he opened his mouth, the pendulum in his mind suddenly swung wildly.  A nearly overpowering sense of urgency filled him and he spun around, his hand on his sword, more than half expecting an army of armed assassins to burst out from the shadows.

_Black wings spread out across the land as legions of dark draconians circled overhead, calling out in hunger, reaching out with grasping and clawed hands._

The pendulum around his neck began to glow, as did the feather and the sense of foreboding grew stronger and deeper.  Something bad was coming, something terrible beyond words.

“Van?”  Dilandau asked, sensing the other’s distress.  “What’s the danger?”  At his word, the two Royals stiffened and looked around.  They’d both heard of Van’s abilities to sense danger moments before it struck and felt fear.

“It’s coming…”  He murmured, clutching the feather and pendant in his hands, he focussed his mind, trying to see.  _A flash of light, screams filling the air.  Screams of pain, of terror… then nothing.  Just a terrible silence and the sound of hungry flames._

“Get out of the building and ensure the Royal’s are kept safe.”  Dilandau ordered, racing back up the platform towards the still open cockpit of the resting alseides.  In moments, he’d closed the hatch and punched in his override, bringing all the previously disabled systems back online within moments, all while silently thanking his innately paranoid nature for having already configured the machine for his own preferences.  It wouldn’t have any of his shortcuts pre-programmed, but he could make due. 

Van could handle any moderate threat, of that he had no doubt, but the way the king was reacting, this was more than a few little assassins.  It was better to be overprepared than to be left standing there with his hands down his proverbial pants.  Besides, it was time these barbarians saw what an alseides could do.  Pity he likely didn’t have time to grab his beautiful Oreades.  Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

It felt good to have the slick press of liquid metal surrounding him, the smell brought back so many glorious memories.  Sweet fate it had been too long since he’d waded into battle with his men at his side, death waiting patiently at his fingertips, just waiting for him to press a button.

“Alright gentlemen, are we ready to have some fun?”  He asked the empty air around him, knowing that the dragonslayers could hear him.

_“Try not to get carried away sir.”_   The ever pragmatic Gatti replied, echoing the orders he’d relayed in what seemed like a lifetime ago.  Unable to restrain a grin, Dilandau allowed himself a chuckle as the huge guymelef stood up in one smooth movement.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

_“Don’t think that we didn’t notice that you have the flamethrower function equipped sir.”_   Shesta spoke up, sounding more amused than anything.  _“You’re still in the palace courtyard.  If you set the palace on fire, the king might be angry.”_

“Blah blah blah.”  He strode towards the exit of the warehouse, seeing the Heir and Princess reach the door and step out into the open.  Van’s sword was already drawn, and he was yelling out orders to the assembled students.  Most didn’t hear him, they were all busy staring at the approaching alseides, even as he watched, two of the men fainted dead away, likely believing that their captain had finally gone rogue and was preparing to kill them all.

“Gaddes!”  Dilandau barked over the intercom, causing pretty much everyone in the courtyard to jump in shock at the sound of the mechanized voice.  “Strike those two idiots off the roster.  I’m not wasting my time on cowards!”

“POWER DOWN THE GUYMELEF AND TURN YOURSELF IN!”  Turning slightly, he saw that several of the palace guards had arrived and were now brandishing their swords at him, as if they could even so much as chip the paint on his unit’s feet.  Idiots.

“Dilandau!  The harbour!”  Van suddenly yelled, the bond flaring between the two of them and making the dragonslayer gasp at the sheer level of horror he could feel radiating off of the king.  Even as he watched, Van’s back seemed to bulge, his shirt stretching out impossibly behind him before bursting apart, unable to contain the great and shining wings which tore their way from his back in a spray of shining feathers. 

Moment’s later, there was a terrible high-pitched whining sound followed by an explosion loud enough to send all the nearby birds from the trees in a panicked rush of wings.  Another explosion followed almost instantly, then another.  Even through the liquid metal insulation, he could feel the ground shake and swell beneath his feet.  Those who’d been left unprotected stumbled, several falling to the ground.

It was fun seeing the guards so visibly torn as to what the real threat was to the city, A battle crazed warlord in a fully functional guymelef, or whatever was laying waste to the city beyond the palace walls.  Several of them lowered their weapons, turning and racing towards the walls, while other continued to stare at him, convinced that he was somehow behind this newest catastrophe.

Looking around, he couldn’t see the source of the noise, but he certainly knew it well enough.  After all, he’d grown up with those sounds being a familiar symphony.  Fates, they were practically lullabies to him.  They were under attack. 

“The Harbour!”  Dryden yelled out, pointing his hand frantically towards the west where Dilandau could now see a black cloud rising, threatening to blot out the sun. 

Not even waiting to see if he was being followed, Van leaped into the air and with a powerful flap of his wings, shot high into the suddenly darkening sky.  Fuck fuck fuck!  What the hell did Van think he was going to do against explosions?!  And who the hell dared to try to blow up Palas!?  That was HIS thing!!  Oh, someone was going to bleed for copying him like that!

“Alpha Unit!”  He yelled out over his comm, noticing that his little group of chosen warriors had closed ranks around the royals.  Good, at least someone had some brains, because it certainly wasn’t the guards.  “Keep the Heir and Princess safe!  The rest of you, help defend the palace!  Gaddes, you’re in charge of them!”  With that, he activated the levistones and thrusters on his machine and leaped into the air, his cloak billowing out around him for the briefest of moments before the alseides shifted into its flight configuration and took off with a blast of power.

Several people were knocked to the ground by the blast of air, others were blinded by the spray of dirt, but none of that was his problem.  His problem was very clearly up ahead.

The harbour was on fire.  Several buildings were nothing but burning rubble, the early morning streets littered with smoldering debris.  He could see various people already rushing out towards the destruction, ready to put their lives on the line in order to stop the fire from spreading, but those first responders were doomed.  Even as they began grabbing buckets, another burning volley fell from the sky like fiery arrows.  Anything they touched was destroyed in a vicious blast of heat and light as the small energist bombs tore chunks out of the city below.

Something vital was struck in this barrage and the blast of a huge explosion threw him back nearly a hundred costa before he regained control of his unit.  His viewscreen crackled several times, trying to adjust from the visual overload before focussing on the massive fireball rising from where a fuel station had once rested.

He had to admit, it was gorgeous to watch as fire rose up, spreading like the blooms of a flower, destroying everything in its path, sending broken and burnt humans scattering in panic before it’s power.  He could almost smell the smoke, hear the screams of the dying…

_: DILANDAU!:_   Van yelled into his mind, jerking him out of his admiration.  _: Listen to me, you pyro!  I’m going to grab Escaflowne!  You try to take those ships out of the air!:_   Glancing around he couldn’t see much of anything due to the smoke, so he shot up higher, hoping to get clear of the darkness.

_: I’ll have this all mopped up before then Fanel.  Stay and watch the show.:_   A grin tugged at his lips as he spied the flash of the early morning sun on the hulls of two leviships.  This wasn’t even going to be a challenge.

_: They’re not the problem!:_ The king shot back _.  There’s something else!  Something big!:_

_: Are you fucking kidding me?!  There’s more?:_   Damn, he was really going to have to up his game.  At this rate, these jerks were going to cause more damage than he did, and that simply wasn’t acceptable.!  At least he’d had the forethought to attack a civilian area, causing widespread panic in the streets in the middle of the night.  These idiots were hitting the harbour during the early hours of the morning when most of the ships had already headed out for their first catch, leaving only… dammit.

Snarling softly to himself, Dilandau let his head thump against the back of his chair.  The navy ships.  They were targeting the damn naval leviships.  Astoria wouldn’t be able to respond to an aerial threat, they wouldn’t be able to organize a speedy evacuation either.  They were cutting the capital’s legs out from under them and that made Van’s warning that this was just the beginning that much more obvious.

Racing towards the ships currently shelling the harbour, he opened up his radio and scrolled through for the Floating fortress’ channel, glad that his machine was already set for Zaibachi frequencies.

“Antoni!”  He called out when he finally found the correct channel.  “Pick up the damn com!”

“Captain!  The commander’s voice crackled through his speakers.  “What the hell is going on down there?  Tell me that isn’t you!”  Oh, yeah, that likely didn’t look good considering his history with this city.  The kids were likely freaking out, convinced that something terrible had happened.

“Palas harbour is under attack from unknown forces.”  He stated, closing in on the ships and noting that both looked Astorian in design, likely how they’d managed to approach so closely without being challenged.  “I need you to run a scan of the skies, monitor for anything heading in this direction.  I want to know about any ships, birds or other guymelef.  I also want to know what frequency they’re operating on.  Get someone on comms to try to crack into their network.”

“That will take time sir.  Our crew still isn’t familiar with the systems here.”

“Did I ask for excuses?  Or results?”

“Of course sir.  At once.” 

“Van is on his way to you to pick up Escaflowne.  Try not to shoot him down.”  He could practically hear Antoni swallowing nervously and knew that the man would be diving for the fortress’ system to warn the gunners not to fire on the king.  It made him smile, but the thought of shooting down these damn ships made him smile even wider.  Aaaah, it really had been too long since he’d torn something apart with his claws.

A quick pass of the lead ship resulted in several of those missiles shot at him, but they were much slower than an airborne alseides and he easily flipped around them, raising an arm and sending out a blast of burning crima at it.  The caustic fluid scorched the side of the ship but couldn’t find enough fuel on it’s metal hull to hold a good flame.  Not a problem.  There was more than one way to tear a ship from the sky.

_:Did you need our help sir?:_   Gatti whispered in his ear, his normally stoic voice echoing with a shadow of hunger.

“I got this.”  He replied, taking aim at the starboard sail before firing again.  This time, the flames caught, eagerly devouring the dense cloth sails and destroying the ship’s manoeuverability.   Another barrage was launched at him but again missed as he twisted sharply and shot straight up above the ship, setting fire to the other wing with a delighted giggle.

Ahhh it was so nice when things caught fire the way they should.  None of this stupid bombing or metal hulls.  Just beautiful deadly fire consuming everything in his path.  It almost made him sorry to tear the ship from the sky, but he needed Astoria and they wouldn’t look fondly on him sitting back to watch the pretties burn while the city fell.

Work work work.

Tearing leviships from the sky was dreadfully boring work when they weren’t being defended by someone like Schezar, or spitting out white dragons.  Whoever had planned this attack hadn’t counted on an aerial assault, or at least not one being conducted by an Alseides.  Their artillery was too slow to touch him, having been designed to handle other slower moving and less agile leviships.

Landing on top of the bridge in a move similar to how he’d bluffed Schezar’s ship, he grinned and set his crima metal into a sword configuration and then drove it down into the brain of the ship.  The surgically sharp blade easily pierced through the steel and glass hull, likely hitting a few members of the crew for good measure as he then drew a long cut, practically slicing the ship in half before allowing his sword to be drawn back into the arm and adjusting it back to flame configuration.

“Open wide.”  He breathed, thrilling at the prospect of taking the lives of these disgusting ants who’d dared to interrupt his lesson.

A split second flash of warning had him leap clear of the ship, his initial flame blast scorching the side and wing of the ship even as several vicious blasts tore their way into the dying machine.  Mini energist bombs reduced the front half of the ship to shrapnel as the second ship turned on it’s fellow, ready to sacrifice it in order to kill Dilandau.

“Oooh, that’s cold.”  He purred in delight, twisting around to take a look at the other ship who was already readjusting their cannons to fire once more.  “I like a ruthless opponent.  C’mon, let’s see what you’ve got.  Impress me.”  At least it wasn’t shelling the harbour anymore… not that there was much left of the place.  Hopefully Schezar had parked that damned ship of his elsewhere, while he might not like the stupid thing, it was still Schezar property and that made it his.  Nobody shot at his stuff and lived.

_: Dilandau!  That first ship is going down!:_   Van screamed in his head and the dragonslayer couldn’t help but nod in agreement even though the other teen couldn’t see it.  _: It’s still over the damn city!:_ … well crap.

_: So catch it!:_  He shot back, and in his distraction, he almost didn’t dodge the incoming blast in time, barely twisting out of the way.  The energist seemed to hum along his nerves, lighting him up from the inside out as it tore past him and he couldn’t quite restrain a giggle of delight.

Following the path the missiles had taken, he all but dared the other ship to fire again as two long swords appeared at the end of each arm, gleaming in the early morning light.

“Come on you bastards!  Show me what you’ve got!”  He yelled, putting his alseides into a dizzying spin, the blades tearing long deep trenches into the side of the ship, slicing through one wing and carving open a gaping hole into the ship’s hull.  A man flew out, screaming loudly, his arms flailing as he struggled to master the art of wingless flight in the few remaining seconds he had of life.

Grinning in sadistic delight, Dilandau snatched him out of the air with a crima claw, the long thin projectile piercing the doomed man through the stomach and yanking him back to the soaring guymelef.

Glancing over, he could see that his victim was still alive, clawing at the liquid metal spike, his eyes wild with panic.  Hmm, how about that, he wore a Basrami uniform.  Surprise surprise.

Well, this looked like the perfect time to send a little message to the approaching ship, one which they wouldn’t ever forget… at least not for the remaining few seconds of their lives. 

With another wild laugh of pure delight, Dilandau spun out of the way of another barrage and flew up in front of the ship.  Matching speeds perfectly with his prey, he was awarded the rather satisfying view of the bridge crew staring at him in horror, a horror with grew as he raised the arm bearing his still struggling victim.  The crima claw holding him shot out, spearing the ship down it’s length, cutting through the thick steel as easily as his blade had.

The man clawed wildly at the window he was now pinned to like a bug, screaming for his allies to save him, to kill him, anything to end his suffering.  Thin trails of crimson leaked through the hole the crima claw had made and he could see several of the stronger willed crewmen drawing their swords, hacking wildly at the metal spear.

Feeling generous, he released the claw with a laugh which only grew in volume as the metal grew unstable and burst into brilliant blue flames.  The man pinned to the nose of the ship screamed as his flesh was licked by the greedy flames, while within the bridge, chaos reigned as sensitive wiring caught fire and the chemicals released by the combined flames quickly proved to be toxic.

No one noticed when he readied his weapons once more, sending out all five claws to shred the ship apart with a single vicious slash.

It fell to pieces, scattering people and ordinance down into the harbour waters far below while the albino laughed, imagining their screams and the way their bones would shatter on the waves.  Sweet fate this was going to be a glorious day!

“Both ships down.”  He purred over the radio, leaning forward slightly to try to get a better view of the carnage below.  “Anything else on our long-range sensors?”

“Sir… there’s a single ship approaching.  We’re getting strange energy readings from it.”  He wasn’t familiar with who was speaking into the mic now but figured that Antoni likely had other problems to deal with at the moment.

“What do you mean strange?”

“He means I’m reading energist fluctuations.”  It was that damn madoushi’s voice now and it sounded like she’d snatched the microphone from whoever was manning the coms.  “Powerful ones identical to the ones recorded at the end of the Destiny war.”

“…You’re fucking kidding me.”  He said after a moment of silence, spinning around as he tried to locate the incoming ship which bore the death of all of Palas within its belly.

“I do not have a sense of humour that I’m aware of sir.”  Geesha replied in her usual soft voice, sounding almost as if she were apologizing for this grave failure.  “That ship is bearing an energist bomb, a large one.”

“Can it be disarmed before they detonate?”

“Not likely.”  She replied succinctly, not bothering to waste time or breath on vague possibilities.  “Basram has never shared this technology with the rest of Gaea.  If this is a suicide run, which it likely is, the ship is already within range to reduce all of Palas to a crater.  There is a zero percent chance of survival.”

“Fuck that.  Antoni, get the fortress behind the mountains!  Use it as cover from the blast!”

“Already powering up the engines sir.”  Good, at least someone was paying attention.

Looking around for Van, he saw the damned white dragon hanging onto the ruined first leviship, ensuring that it was angled out to sea before releasing it to crash into the waves just a little past the second wreck.  He looked a little strained from the effort, but Dilandau had long ago learned that the king had vast and surprising stores of energy and he could handle much more than carrying a ship around like a toy.

: Van, we’ve got a problem…:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... shit hit the fan pretty damn fast. You KNOW that Basram was going to do something nefarious and hey, that bomb was just too perfect to not use again. Gasp! Basram lied about having more? Shame on them!  
> Anyway, Gaddes is having a shitty day, so is Merle. They're all going to join Allen in the tavern and discuss how crappy two teenage boys have made their lives... that is if they're not all nuked in the next chapter. ^_^
> 
> Next Chapter: DOOOOM!!! yeah, cue the doom song.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah... off to a happy start indeed. Personally, I enjoyed the little snippet of Van's with Hitomi's hand coming out of the light to grab hold of him, swapping that with Hitomi's vision of Van grabbing onto hers which popped up repeatedly during the show. ^_^
> 
> Also YAY more Merle! I always felt that Merle and Millerna both got pretty shafted as to the amount of screen time/action they got in the show. Both are very interesting individuals who had so much more room to develop, so I'm going to give them that chance here. (I was never partial to either character and I'm excited about the idea of making them more than just girls who follow their men around, only occasionally rising to the occasion on their own. Granted, Merle is still pretty young, so expect her to fall on her face on occasion.)
> 
> No, Palos is not dead yet. I gave some serious thought to letting him die because the little shit deserves it, but this was a chance for Millerna to step in and be awesome and also gives him a chance to redeem himself on some level which was a big thing in the show. Of course, everyone might just kill him anyway when they find out the part he played in the kidnapping.
> 
> As for Dilandau and Van.... their day got a whole lot worse and will continue to go downhill for some time.
> 
> Next Chapter!: Never fly coach. The service sucks.


End file.
